The Diary of Olivia Edwards: Part 3

Part 2

20th November 1967

Oh my God, what am I to do?! I cannot believe it, I am still in shock. My hand shakes as I write these words. In the pit of my compressed stomach there is a lump. I feel like my worst nightmare has come true and the hell that I live daily has got worse!

It was him. He was at the party. The soiree Daniel called it. He attended this evening gathering in support of his political party and I came with him. I have done it before. It is always horrible. The men paw at me and the women look down at me. Those that can. There are always a couple of dolls there. The number seems to be increasing, like we are becoming more accepted. How can a civilised Christian society ever accept such a thing?

But that is not it. We were there and then he came in through the door, a young lady on his arm. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I welcome the Foreign Secretary.” And it was him. Foreign Secretary. Not a junior minister these days but one of the most important people in the government! “Mr. Hunter! Please come here, Mr. Hunter! Can I get you a drink Mr. Hunter!” They fawned over him like animals and he lapped it up while all the while she just stood there, starstruck, transfixed, doe-eyed and delirious. Like I once was. “This is Chloe Hardwick, a distant cousin of mine,” he said. He used to use the same excuse with me; I was a relative whom he was introducing to society. It all seemed so proper and right; only I knew what a lying snake he was. Yet what can I do? Silenced and masked, trammelled by my clothing, I merely stood and watched, sickened to the pit of my stomach.

But then it got worse. He came over and greeted Daniel, “one of our oldest and most trusted supporters”. And then he turned to me. “And who is this delightful vision of femininity?” he asked. “This is Libby, my ward,” replied my guardian. And the snake bent down and kissed my pot cheek, before circling my waist with his hands. “A fine waist you have there my dear,” he said. “You must be very grateful to the good doctor for raising you so well.”

And then he was gone, back in the crowd, schmoozing and drinking, his pretty feminine accessory at his side.

And I seethed. Seethed at how his wealth and power enabled him to get away with it. How he could ruin my life and walk off scot-free to continue enjoying his own.

But even that was not the end of it.

No, if only!

Later on, perhaps an hour or two later, when Daniel had sat me down on a chair and was over on the other side of the room discussing something with a friend, the slimy bastard came over to me, sat right next to me and circle my waist again with his hands. “Hello Clare, or should I say Libby,” he whispered in my ear. “Long time no see. You’re looking well I must say, damned sexy in fact. If I wasn’t already married, I’d consider asking your guardian for your hand and breaking in that virginity of yours. Except that you and I know that you’re as much a virgin as Chloe there is my cousin. She’s my latest flame. Pretty little thing isn’t she, almost as good as you were… and your sister. I’m dolling her next month; it’ll be a lovely nineteenth birthday surprise for her. The academy has found me another and she, like you, will never be able to tell tales.” His hand trailed over to my breasts and squeezed them lewdly. He licked my pottery face and smiled. “What are you thinking, eh? My little vixen, I bet you hate me. I’ve heard rumours that the good doctor there keeps you chaste and locked up. How does a woman with your libido cope? Not my problem I suppose. But you’ll be pleased to know that I still think of you, and that sister of yours. She’s called Pillows these days and they say her tits are bigger than yours. That’s over the top in my mind, but a guardian knows best I suppose. And her guardian is far less moral and upstanding than yours. Oh well my precious, until next time.”

And then, with a final squeeze, he was gone, and I was left seething. My breasts heaved up and down as I processed all that he had told me. Then I blacked out and the next thing I knew was Daniel bringing me round.

The alarm rings, my time is up. What am I to do? What am I to do? How can I save that poor innocent and see that justice is meted out to that snake?

27th November 1967

I have so much to tell this week. Looking back, I can hardly believe that I did what I did and what has happened has happened. Things have changed beyond all recognition.

Seeing Jacob shook me beyond all imagining. To have the cause of all my misfortune come in front of me and then taunt me with his deeds while boasting that he planned to commit further evil caused something inside of me to snap. I thought of that poor girl, an innocent like me, naïve and hopeful, looking forward to a life of love and luxury, when in reality forced silence, helplessness and the very denial of her humanity was all that awaited.

But more than that, I thought of my darling sister Emma; sickly, suffering Emma, who prayed for a better world but who, like me, had been reduced to a faceless, anonymous doll, an over-sexualised parody of a human being, demeaned further (as if it were possible!) by her very name. known to the world as ‘Pillows’ – it made me sick!

It was Emma – always Emma, never never ‘Pillows’! – that did it for me. Her suffering gave me the strength and determination to do something. I imagined her sitting there, her mammoth breasts heaving up and down, blank and expressionless to the world but crying inside, waiting only to be raped. Yes, I would act.

But how? What could I do, silent and helpless as I was. I had no voice to call with, no arms to signal with and no eyes to plead with. I had nothing; I could hardly move without assistance.

All night I tossed it over in my mind and then I came to a resolution. The following morning, after my enema and smoothie breakfast, I was led into the sitting room for another day of interminable sitting and staring. Daniel sat in his armchair reading The Telegraph. But that day I did not just sit there. Instead I squirmed and shook. Daniel looked up. “Libby, is something wrong? You seem disquieted.” Using the little neck movement that I still possessed, I nodded. He seemed concerned. I squirmed more and then, with an almighty effort, toppled myself onto the floor. Stunned, he got up and helped me back up onto my spindle heels. “Libby are you well?” I shook my head and he tried to sit me down again. I carried on shaking my head, but it was to no avail. I was seated on the settee again and my maid called. She brought medicine which I was forced to take. I soon went drowsy and could resist no more.

Before I continue, I shall speak of my maid. I do not know her name, but I know her secret. She came with me, “a gift from the school” although Daniel pays her wages. But he is not the only one, of that I am sure, for although I never saw her at the school, I am sure she turned up several times at Bedford Place whilst I was living there with Jacob. She is his woman, his spy who does all that she can to ensure that I let no secrets slip. When Daniel suggested this diary, she was dead against it, going beyond her remit as a servant and protesting with him that it would “destroy the doll mind and cause the poor creature pain”. But, to his credit, he insisted, the preferences of his late wife drowning out the protestations of a servant, and so she relented, although ever since she has ensured that it remains firmly under lock and key whenever I am not writing so that none may chance on it.

But I digress. For two days I was kept drugged, in a foggy netherworld between reality and fantasy. But I kept my resolve! When the drugs wore off my rebellion continued. Walking into the dining room, I freed myself momentarily of the hated maid’s grasp, tottered to the wall and slammed my face against it, time after time. I was stopped pretty quick, but the point was made. “I shall sedate her again,” said the maid straightaway, as Daniel restrained me. I shook my head non-stop and he noticed. “No,” he said, “something disquiets her, and I do not think it is a physical illness this time.

“It is an illness of the mind, sir; I shall call the doctor.”

“No, no! I know dear Libby well and this is unlike her. She has exhibited no other symptoms of mental malady before this week. I do believe she wishes to tell me something.”

I nodded my head.

“Sir, she cannot. It will destroy the doll mind; dolls are trained to be without thoughts and personality; the very desire to communicate with you is a sign of mental illness in itself. I shall call…”

“You shall do nothing except depart! You go beyond your remit as a servant and speak to me impudently! It is unacceptable!”

“Sir, I apologise humbly but I must…”

“Leave! Now!”

And so, we were alone and this was my chance. But how to tell him? He asked numerous questions: Was my stomach alright? Did I feel dizzy? None were helpful, so I shook me head at them all. “Do you need to write something?” he asked. I nodded.

Slowly he unfastened my accursed monoglove. While I waited for the blood to rush back into my tortured arms, he fetched a pen and paper. Then I wrote, shakily and slowly: READ MY DIARY.

“But I cannot! It is sacred and private! It would be an imposition!”

I pointed to the words again and then added, ALL IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK. SINS HAVE BEEN COMMITTED.

He nodded slowly and left the room. As he did he bumped into my maid who was descending the stairs with the very diary he intended to read. She had guessed my message or had perhaps been listening in. “Give that here!” he demanded. She turned away and made for the fire, but he did battle with her, trying to wrest it from her hands. She though, despite her corseting, was a young and strong woman. The commotion though brought Mrs. Salt running in and her strength combined with my guardian’s saved the book. The gardener also entered, and he restrained the recalcitrant maid while Daniel took the book, laid it on the table and started to read.

It took him a long time, but at the end he closed it, look at me with an expression of immense pity and merely said, “The wrongs shall be righted, and the sinners punished.”

I fainted with joy.

 

4th December 1967

How can I write these words? My pen trembles in my hand. I am so excited, yet also full of fear. Tomorrow is the day when things are to happen; I just hope that it all goes to plan; Daniel is such a darling, I just hope…

Let me start at the beginning. So, Daniel read the diary. Some parts of it shocked me and, I must confess that the sections where I criticised him caused me to curl up with shame, but he learnt it all: my deception, my forced immorality, my true identity and my abduction and far from voluntary dollification. He learned that he had been lied to and he learned who the evil criminal behind it all was; a man whom he had hitherto regarded as a friend. And he learned that more evil was to take place unless he prevented it.

Upon finishing the book, he hugged me, tears flowing from his eyes and repeated over and over again, “Clare, I am so, so sorry! Please forgive me!” Using my arms for something other than writing for the first time in ages, I expressed human emotion for the first time since my dollification and hugged him back. Then, when the tears had dried, he acted.

He did not call the police as I had expected, but instead ordered Mrs. Salt and the gardener to lock the scheming maid in the coalhole and stand guard over her. Then he made a telephone call to a close friend in the Conservative Party who himself made a call to someone else. Half an hour later there was a knock on the door and two men entered, their faces hidden by their scarves. They sat down at the table and unwrapped themselves and, I was shocked to discover that one of them was no less a personage than the prime minister. The other, I later learnt, was the Chairman of the Party.

They read the diary and then asked me questions which I answered with my pen. The whole dollification and abduction ring was exposed – the charity that “saved” Emma and I was the first stage of the larger operation – and the key names were given. At the end, the prime minister sat back and exclaimed, “That cur has deceived both his country and his wife, my darling niece. The bastard shall pay!”

“Indeed, he must,” agreed the Party Chairman, “but we cannot afford a scandal, not with the Liberals so strong. We must deal with it, undoubtedly, not just Hunter but Sykes and Mason and all the others, but we must be discreet. The police can never know and nor too the papers. Hunter must not be outed, he must have an accident.”

“Agreed, we are shaky ground with the electorate as it is. What do you propose?”

“A party, here at Dr. Edwards’ residence. To celebrate young Libby’s engagement to… oh I don’t know who, someone, she’s only a doll after all. Hunter will not be able to resist the invitation; another opportunity to gloat and wallow in his depravities. He can toast the bride to be and then fall ill. MI5 can arrange that. Forced to lie down in a back bedroom, he can be dealt with appropriately by our agents.”

“Liquidated?”

“Oh no, Will, something far more fitting.”

“Explain please, I am intrigued.”

“Young Libby here is a doll, is she not? But, having read that diary, I suspect that she would like to regain her human status, am I not correct?” I nodded my head. “Well, my dear, you certainly deserve it for your efforts. But the undollifying of a doll who, in the eyes of the world, embraced dollification voluntarily, would seem strange, questionable even. So, I suggest that Libby the doll remains, forever a ward in Dr. Edwards’ house. The doll remains but instead, the good doctor here takes a wife, a poor orphan from the East End named Clare Warwick. Yet more proof of Daniel’s fine charitable instincts.”

“Hugh, I do not have the finances to remarry now, I…”

“Daniel, the party shall pay, fear not. We are supporting the charitable endeavours of one of our most loyal members.”

“I fail to see what this has to do with Hunter, Hugh!”

“It has everything to do with Jacob Hunter MP, Will, because we will need someone else to become Libby the Doll. Behind that blank mask, it matters naught who or what they originally were, only what they now are; an orphaned dolly in the good doctor’s care.”

“Emasculate and dollify the cur! Splendid idea!”

“Indeed. Hunter becomes Libby and the nation mourns a fine MP who was killed in a freak food poisoning accident. Who knew that he was allergic to peanuts? Why, it had never been picked up before. His wife can mourn him properly, in all innocence and the sympathy might help our electoral prospects.”

“And the others who supported this evil school and operation. Oh, trust me, I shall deal with them in due course…”

And so, it is that tonight we shall welcome Jacob Hunter MP again to celebrate my engagement to one Richard Felix (an associate of Hugh de Ferrers, the Party Chairman I am told). For one last time I shall be forced to endure his taunts and look into his evil eyes. And then, then he shall meet his just desserts.

A year later

A year has passed since the last entry that you read, and my life has changed beyond all imagining. Indeed, I have changed my very identity no less than twice, first becoming Miss Clare Warwick again and then Mrs. Clare Edwards. Which is why this diary ceased to be, for it was no longer the diary of Olivia Edwards, the doll ward of Dr. Daniel Edwards. She still exists, of course, but after that last entry, she decided that she did not want to keep a diary any longer for it was destroying her doll mind. A wise choice. Thus, her diary ended, and the diary of Clare Edwards nee Warwick began. That, though, is a story for another time. For today, I am merely to wrap up any loose ends in the old Libby’s diary that you, the reader, may have. Not that anyone will ever read this work, or at least, not in the next fifty years, but I cannot bear to see it either destroyed or left unfinished and so here we go.

The plan hatched by the Party Chairman was executed. I was dolled up to the nines (pardon the pun) by my new maid (provided by the party; the old one had been taken away by two MI5 agents and I never heard of her again) and then led on my leash downstairs to meet my fiancé, a gentleman named Richard Felix whom I had never seen before and would never see again. The assembled party applauded and toasted us and, in amongst them, was Jacob Hunter. Just seeing him made my compressed stomach lurch. He filled me with both disgust and fear and I trembled. Some time afterwards, he came over to me. His arm sidled around my tightly-cinched waist and his other hand strayed onto my breasts, squeezing each one lewdly. “This may well be the last time I have the opportunity to enjoy these, my darling Clare,” he whispered into my ear. As a mute, anonymous doll, I could not answer him of course, but inside I shouted back, “So it may, far more than you realise!”

And, as if those unspoken words had been heard by a higher power, a look of pain and dismay passed across his face. He withdrew his hands from my unprotected body and brought them to his own stomach, before them brushing his brow. He glanced at the drained champagne glass that he had left on a nearby table. Forgetting about me in an instant, he mumbled to himself, “Bloody champers must be off. I feel damned dicky!” And then he stumbled off, taken three lurching steps before crashing to the ground.

The whole room stopped, and several men ran over to him. “Are you alright there, Jacob? Something up man?” He groaned with misery and, if I had not known the true nature of his soul, I would have felt pity for him. But then two of them picked him up and took him to a room and he was gone.

The following afternoon it was announced that the Rt. Hon. Jacob Hunter MP had passed away following a party at a friend’s house. The coroner ascribed the cause of death to be some peanuts that had been available at the party and which, unbeknownst to himself, the much-mourned Mr. Hunter had an allergy to.

But before that death was announced and a coffin carried out of the house, I too left the premises, taking the car to the Great Ormond Street Hospital. I was going to have some further enhancements made at the bequest of my fiancé and, because I would be away from home for a while, I took my large travelling trunk – large enough to contain a man, so numerous were my outfits – with me. Two burly servants struggled to lift it.

Libby the doll was in the hospital for a full month before she was released back into her guardian’s care. She never married because her fiancé decided, after the terrible occurrences during their engagement party, that such a wedding would be disrespectful to the late MP and that it obviously wasn’t auspicious anyhow. In the deluge of other news items, this tiny footnote got lost forever.

A day after Libby returned home, another girl was released from the hospital. Her name was Miss Clare Warwick, and no one knew when she had entered. She was a poor orphan who had aroused the pity of the pious Dr. Daniel Edwards and was due to become his wife. Like Libby, she was in for marital enhancements. Unlike Libby, she wasn’t a doll.

I’d have liked to have my doll suit stripped from me and my old identity restored in full, but it wasn’t possible. The rubberised skin coating was permanent and a year of being encased beneath the hood and mask had turned my plain visage into a hideous one. So, instead, my future husband and I worked together to design a new one that both reflected my identity and pleased him. It was not entirely to my liking – the lips are way too large and the nose a mere button, and the lisp I now have due to the puffed-up, shortened tongue is embarrassing, but it is a vast improvement. Now I can see freely and speak freely. Well, when there is no fleur de bouche lodged in that orifice of course.

I am no longer a doll, but that does not mean that all my freedoms have been returned. Perhaps one day, if Daniel passes away before I do, then such will be the case, but not now. I am still corseted to a mind-boggling 13.5 inches and I still wear ridiculous en pointe heels whenever I’m not bathing. Plus, although no doll, I am still a Lady of Leisure, with my arms firmly ensconced in a crushing monoglove most of the time. I protested about this, but Daniel insisted – his late wife had been a Lady of Leisure and it would be disrespectful to her memory to insist on less for her replacement – and, since he had all the power, I eventually had to relent. It is hard, that I do not deny, but a world better than life as Libby. Yes, I am effectively armless whenever in public or company, but when we are alone in the house, he has no compunction in unlacing that accursed sleeve and letting me hug him or pleasure him with my hands or mouth.

And it is the pleasuring that has made the greatest difference. That day when I was released from hospital, I was taken straight to the Church of St. Lawrence where I was wedding to Daniel in a quiet ceremony attended by close friends and the Chairman of the Conservative Party. Oh yes, and Libby the Doll, my husband’s ward, who was now back in his care following the tragic collapse of her own marriage prospects.

Then we were taken home, and, after an informal wedding dinner, I was led upstairs, and my sex freed for the first time in a year. Daniel came afterwards and within moments we coupled as two human beings. He was not such a competent and adventurous lover as Jacob, but his heart and soul were pure unlike that monster’s and so I found it more pleasurable. Libby, incidentally, was allowed to watch the proceedings as part of her education. She fidgeted throughout, the movements getting more intense as I screamed out in ecstasy, as if the show distressed her somehow.

And so that brings us to today. I am still Clare, still the wife of Dr. Daniel Edwards and still an esteemed and respected Lady of Leisure. I live in his house together with Olivia – or ‘Libby’ – the pretty doll who is his ward. As Daniel often naps or has to pop out, I have dedicated myself to caring for that poor doll. I talk to her and play with her. I tell her about my past and the evil man who so almost ruined my life. Then I tell her about my darling sister, how she has also been freed from her enforced dollhood and how she will be coming over tomorrow to play. She shudders at that thought. I can’t think why. And then I ask the maid to activate the plugs that are lodged within me and I bring myself to ecstasy whilst the poor little dolly watches. She has plugs too, but they are never ever switched on even though her fidgeting suggests she might like them to be. She is unmarried after all and shall remain so until she dies, and so any sexual release would be improper.

FINIS

The Diary of Olivia Edwards: Part 2

Part 1

9th October 1967

I have decided to write today about my story. All I have done so far is give you my name and tell you about the miserable life that I live today. But that is not my life. That is the life of this Libby Edwards and I will never be her. My name is Clare Warwick. I am 22 years old and I was born in Bethnal Green, London.

It’s a rough place is the Green. No one there has any money, and everyone has a knife. I was born at home because we couldn’t afford the hospital and my mum had already given birth to five babies before me. Only two survived, my brother Jack and my sister Emma who is two years older than me. This time I survived but my mum did not. She died the next day from what they call “complications”. I often wonder what she was like and what my life would have been had she lived. Hard no doubt, but better than this I am sure. I was so jealous of all the other kids who had mums to cook for them and wash their clothes and stuff. I never had that. We only had dad and all he did was drink. He loved my mum you see, and when she died he couldn’t cope. So, it fell to Jack to look after me. He was eleven when I was born, and he did the best he could. But with dad drinking so much, he got sacked from his job and so Jack had to leave school and go out to work. Work though, can never provide enough for a family, so he left that and joined a gang. He loved the gang, the friendship and brotherhood it brought, plus the money. When they’d done a robbery, he’d come home his pockets full of notes and we’d go into the West End on the train and he’d buy us a lovely meal in some nice restaurant. But those days were rare, and they didn’t last. One day he failed to come home. He was found three hours later in a ditch, slashed with a knife.

After that dad drank more. We began to miss meals and our electric was cut off. Then the water stopped too, and we began to smell. Emma fell ill but there was no money for medicine. She pulled through but then, a year later, she fell ill a second time. The doctor said her constitution was weak and she needed medical help and care. But what could we do? Dad was comatose from the drink all the time and no one wanted to employ a dirty wretch like me. I was sixteen at the time, uneducated and unkempt. The doctor said that there might be a way and ordered dad to come and see him the following morning before he’d had a drink. Sensing a chance to save Emma, we dragged him to the surgery. What we heard when we got there was most unexpected.

Standing next to the doctor was a smart man in a grey suit. The doctor explained that this gentleman, a Mr. Fellows, was a representative of an educational charity. He said that he had informed the charity about Emma’s plight and they wanted to help our family. Dad and I fell onto our knees in thanks. He said that the charity was willing to pay all of Emma’s medical costs for the next twenty years and to educate her until she turned twenty-one. It was too good to be true. But then it got better. They wanted to do the same for me too. All dad had to do was sign over the right of parenthood for both his daughters to the charity until we reached adulthood at 21. He did so willingly and then we signed to say that we had no issue with this. And then, he left and…

There is the alarm. I shall continue tomorrow…

 

16th October 1967

And so, I started school. It was a weird experience. I’d never had any education or order or boundaries in my life and now I was expected to sit in a class all day long and behave like a good little girl. Of course, with my background, that did not come easily at first, but the school – its full title was the High Barnet Charitable School for Young Ladies – was used to girls like me from deprived backgrounds and knew how to deal with us. When I misbehaved, I was punished with canings on my bottom and then silenced with a gag in my mouth. I resisted for several months, but after that my protestations ceased. They were not worth it.

Not worth it and also the actual education that I was now receiving, I began to find interesting. I was naturally a bright child yet had received precious little education or intellectual stimulus before. I was taught the rudiments of reading, writing and ’rithmetic and began to find pleasure in the stories that I could now immerse myself in.

Equally, I also began to enjoy what the school was doing with my body. The institution was a charitable one established by several Conservative MPs who believed in raising up intelligent members of the lower orders to the civilised classes. That meant educating our minds of course, but also our bodies. We had lessons on deportment and elocution, how to dance and how to make small talk in graceful company, but above that, we were made beautiful.

It started with the uniform. Although a plain affair of dark grey satin with a white apron, it was always to be kept immaculate and we looked fetching in it as the cut was low which exposed the tops of our budding breasts and the waist incorporated a tight corset. I had never worn stays before, but from the first day at the High Barnet Charitable School for Young Ladies they became an essential part of my life, being worn during all waking hours, then removed for washing and night stays then affixed around me, these being slightly looser and finishing under the bosom. They squeezed me terribly, destroyed my appetite, caused me to faint regularly and be always short of breath. But they made me beautiful too. For the first time in my life I felt desirable and I liked that feeling.

Nor too was it only me; my sickly sister blossomed into a stunning, pale-faced beauty with a waist of but 14 inches. She became the belle of the school but then, one day, she left. The headmistress explained to me that she had found a gentleman who would take care of her. For several months she wrote weekly letters, telling of trips to the theatre and the park. Oh, how I envied her. But then the letters stopped, and I grew sad. She had forgotten her little sister; was perhaps ashamed of her even. Later, I realised the truth.

There were other additions to my attire as well. On my first day, in a humiliating episode, my womanly parts were inspected, shaved and then covered with a burning paste. When removed the hair stopped growing there and I was as smooth as a baby. Over those most intimate areas I then wore a belt, night and day, made of metal, that stopped me touching them. This was no great loss as, in the Green, I had rarely touched myself since my hands were so dirty I feared infection and I was so tired from my work that I had not the energy. I was innocent back then; if only it were so now.

And so, my life changed, for the better. Daily I blossomed from a gawky child into an educated and graceful young lady. We would have soirees when men came around and they were the highlight of my – and my girlfriends’ – existences. We were dressed up by the school in the finest gowns and we would enjoy the male company, make small-talk with them and dance. Although most were as old as my father or more, it was jolly good fun and they were the days I remember most fondly.

Well, all except one of them.

The one where I first met Jacob Hunter MP.

But that is a story for later. In the meantime, our waists were steadily reduced, down to the school minimum of 15 inches and then mine beyond, down to an agonising 14. Laced so I could hardly breath or function as a human being, but I loved the attention – particularly the male attention – it brought. I was starting to notice the opposite sex you see, and the power that I had over them. Tightly-laced and finely attired I could make the heads of an entire room turn. For the first time in my young life, I commanded respect and attention and I grew drunk on it. Too drunk, for I did not notice the dangers.

Not even when it was too late.

23rd October 1967

I knew that something special was up. After all, pupils never got invited to the headmistress’s office. I had been in the High Barnet Charitable School for Young Ladies for three years and had blossomed from a puny, gawky, filthy and uncouth girl into a woman, a woman with refinement and manners and a waist fourteen centimetres in circumference that left me feeling elegant and breathless at all times.

Almost a year before, the same had happened to Emma. She had survived her illness scares and the hearty diet and healthy regime of the school had caused her to blossom into a real beauty. Then she had been called into the office and, a week later, she was gone. Somehow, perhaps at one of the soirees, I am unsure, a gentleman had noticed her, and she lived with him. I did not ask if they were married, it was not my place, but I suspected not. I did not approve, of course, but growing up in the Green, you get to take the world for how it is rather than how it should be.

And so, it was for me too. I had an admirer.

His name was Jacob Hunter and he was a Conservative Member of Parliament. His constituency was somewhere in Gloucestershire which was where his ancestral mansion was too, although he split his time between there and the capital. He was also married, to no less a figure than the niece of the prime minister, and she was a lady of great status, a Lady of Leisure no less, who was never seen with unbound arms or a fleur de bouche filling her mouth. I was shocked. Surely if he is married, then he shouldn’t be admiring me I asked with an innocence that was not entirely genuine.

“It is quite normal and correct for gentlemen of standing like Mr. Hunter to take on a mistress,” explained the headmistress. “You will not understand this being innocent of the ways of the world, but men produce a seed inside them which is released during bedtime activities. If this seed is not released it can build up and cause pain and stress. For a gentleman like Mr. Hunter who, by necessity, spends long periods away from home guiding his country, then prevention of that build-up is important. You are serving King and Country by becoming his mistress, Miss Warwick.”

Whatever. All I saw was a new chapter in my life, a chapter with parties and freedoms, away from school, an adult at last.

I remember that first night vividly. It’s a key moment in any girl’s life after all; the night when she truly becomes a woman. I approached it with a degree of fear but also great curiosity and, after the initial pain, I found great pleasure. Jacob was an experienced lover, extremely experienced, and he knew how to give himself pleasure whilst also putting me at my ease and giving me some pleasure of my own. A whole new world was opened up to be and, as he exploded within me, I resolved to make it my own.

And so it began: trips to the theatre wearing a bonnet with a veil to hide my identity; masked balls where all participants were unknown and discreet private parties with carefully selected individuals that often ended up closer to an orgy than a soiree, followed by lazy days in the house, lounging around clad only in my stays, waiting for my man who would arrive after parliamentary business had concluded, often bearing some sort of sparkling gift for me to wear.

Not that I had it all my own way, of course. Jacob was used to power and wielded it naturally. Both in and out of bed he was the master. Several weeks after our affair began, he presented me with a plug shaped a little like a Christmas tress with a large diamond set in the broad end. Confused, I could not figure out its purpose so, purposefully, he bent me over and carefully but firmly inserted it into my bottom hole before then declaring that I was to wear it continually night and day. It was strange, walking around with a rod inserted in my bum, but I bore it for him as I feared the consequences of disobeying. And then, several days later, he bent me over again, removed the plug and instead inserted his member in there. My cries of shock and dismay were simply ignored.

And so, it continued. The winter came and went and so did the summer. During recess we went on a short break to the south of France where I strolled, my face veiled, of course, along the promenade in Nice and marvelled at the lax dress of the locals whilst enjoying the sun.

And throughout this entire period, my own dress changed. My corsets were further tightened until fourteen inches became the norm, not the exception, and for the finest balls I could struggle down to thirteen. This was helped by an operation that Jacob paid for in which my lower ribs were removed, which facilitated the reduction but left me dependent on my stays for the rest of my life. And, whilst I was there, my breasts were enlarged, with 500cc being put in each one. Again, I had no say in any of this although, if we are to be honest, I did not mind that much. After all, were these measures not proof that he loved me and valued me? And that the Cinderella had truly become a princess?

And so, one year rolled by and then two and then three until I reached my twenty-second year. By then though, things had begun to change. They were barely perceptible at first, but real nonetheless. A decrease in his enthusiasm in the bedchamber and in the frequency of his visits and…

The bell. I shall continue next week!

 

30th October 1967

So, where was I? Oh yes, I got to the point where things started to go horrible. How can I forget that? I will never forget it, it was the worst moment of my life and yet, at the time, it started so well.

Things between me and Jacob Hunter were fine. Or at least, that was how I saw it at the time. In reality, so he had begun to cool a little. He demanded sex less often and came around to the house less frequently. But I just assumed that was because he was busy and too tired for bedtime activities. Certainly, his demeanour didn’t really change. He was courteous to me in public and condescending in private like he always had been. But then my education had taught me that that was how men are to their womenfolk; they are the superior beings after all.

It was his birthday. He was forty-two I seem to recall. He came to the house and took me out. We went for a lovely meal at the Burlington – I had duck à l’orange and a bottle of 1963 Clos St. Denis, I remember it clearly – and then went to the Duke of York’s Theatre to watch Figaro (he always loved the theatre and, since my education, I had begun to appreciate it too). Then it was back to the house and the usual lovemaking. Except that this was not the usual; it was rabid and animalistic, raw passion. It was incredible. Looking back today, I understand why. Then he made me some tea and within seconds I began to feel drowsy. He kissed me on the forehead and I closed my eyes, his smiling face the last thing I was to see.

When I awoke I was not in my bed nor even in the house. Instead, I was in a hospital and I hurt all over. I wondered what the hell had happened and so I cried out. Worryingly though, no sound was made. Indeed, my mouth wouldn’t move. I won’t say that it wouldn’t open because it already was, very wide, but it was stuffed full of something which prevented any sound. More than that, my face seemed to be covered with something, a mask of some sort. My vision, which was clear enough, was like looking through a pair of binoculars only without the magnification. It was as if I were staring through two pinholes, each covered by a lens. What the hell had happened?

I tried to move but found that I could not. Somehow, I was strapped down. All I could do was lie there and wait. Of course, I struggled for some time and yelled into my gag, but nothing happened and so in the end I just lay there. As I did I began to realise that it wasn’t just my face that was covered. Whatever was over it extended around my entire head, like some sort of hood or helmet. And my body was wrong too. The little movement I had made had caused me to heat up far more than it should have done. That too was covered, encased.

I felt the need to go to the toilet. I tried to hold it in but as the hours passed I could not. Eventually, I gave in to the urge and peed. I must have been fitted with a catheter because it drained away without making me damp. And then I waited some more and some more. Hour after hour in that silent, white room with only a ceiling and a strip light to stare at. Where was Jacob? Where was I? Was this what hell is like?

Sometime later, possible days after I first awoke, someone came in. I jerked about when I heard the door and their steps. It was a nurse. She looked at me and said, “So, Number 14, you are back with us. Excellent! I shall get the doctor.”

She left, and I was alone again, confused. What did she mean, ‘Number 14’?

A male doctor came soon afterwards. He did not speak to me nor acknowledge my struggles. Instead, he poked around at my body, tapped my head and squeezed by bottom and breasts. “All healed well and good to go,” he said eventually, more to himself than me. And then I was alone again.

Some hours later two male nurses came carrying a large crate. They released me from my bonds and then lifted me up from the bed and into the crate. Despite my weakness I struggled vigorously but to no avail. They took no notice of me as if I weren’t even human.

Little did I know that, in their eyes, I no longer was.

 

6th November 1967

Oh my God, this is intolerable! It rained today and so we didn’t go out. Instead Daniel sat me in the lounge and read me a story. I think he was getting excited as he sat on the settee alongside me and put his hand around my waist and squeezed my mammoth breasts. Despite my revulsion at his age – although that is far less these days, indeed, I have become accustomed to it and it feels like the norm – I feel myself attracted to him and long for more. My loins are on fire and I snuggle up to him, my breasts heaving as my breath goes short. He seems to notice and takes my hand. What is happening? He leads me to the bedroom and I totter behind him excited. Is this going to be it? The time when his Christian defences are breached, and he gives in to his carnal desires. I pray silently that it is so, and those prayers are answered… for him. He kneels me on the floor and sticks his rock-hard member in my mouth. Within seconds semen floods my throat. He is sated, and he lies on the bed, beckoning me to join him. I do so but that is all. He sleeps, and I lie there awake and tortured by unquenchable desire.

Desire that still pervades all my thoughts.

I must think of other things, move my mind onto something less sexual. I shall continue with my story…

Duck à l’orange and a bottle of Clos St. Denis. I can taste them now. I dream about them. For they were the last meal that I ever had. As a human being that is.

The journey in that crate, boxed in the dark like I had been buried alive, was petrifying. We bumped about, and I felt myself moving. At several points I wanted to vomit but could not. And then, all was still and after what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, light flooded in, blinding me.

I was in a dormitory. Two rows of single beds, all empty and made up. They laid me on one of them and then left. I was no longer strapped down, so I tried to move, but after being inactive for so long, I found that I was weak and couldn’t even sit up, let alone walk. What I could do was put my fingers up in front of my face. To my surprise, they seemed as if they were covered in latex or rubber, like those of a mannequin or a doll rather than a living girl. Then a thought flashed through my mind, a horrifying, terrible thought. I tried to banish it, but it kept returning, stronger each time. I was peering through pinholes, my head was encased, my voice was silenced, and my hands were covered in rubber. Are they all not signs of being a doll, one of those weird, living dolls that started off as some underground fetish subculture and seem to be rapidly becoming mainstream. Yet those dolls all choose to be like that, they aren’t forced into it. They have depraved minds that long for some sort of submissive existence. They certainly aren’t the educated mistress of a Member of Parliament with the desire to experience as much of life as possible. And yet… yet had not the last thing that I remembered before blacking put been drinking drugged tea and the smiling face of that Member of Parliament. Could he have…? He had the power and yet why? And I had not consented?

It was then that the lack of sex and infrequent visits began to make sense. And the unusual passion of our final night. And the smile. That evil smile.

A maid came with a dress for me. It was a school uniform similar to that which I had worn at the High Barnet Charitable School for Young Ladies. Passively, I let her put it on me and lace a pair of high-heeled boots (I was already wearing a corset of course). Then she helped me to stand and supported and led me as I walked down a corridor to an office. In that room another woman was waiting. The maid sat me on a chair and the explanation began.

“Welcome to the Chesham Doll Academy Number 14. I am the Headmistress, Miss Unsworth and you shall obey me at all times. If you haven’t already realised it, you have undergone a dramatic transformation. I believe that you were called Clare before. You are no longer Clare, she does not exist. She made a request to be dollifed last month which was approved by no less a figure than the Member of Parliament, Jacob Hunter. She signed over all her rights to me until she completes doll school and has a new guardian. Do not fear, there is one already lined up and you shall be with him in a week’s time. His name is Mr. Martin Letchworth and he is a hat manufacturer from Luton. In the interim you shall accustom yourself to your new reality.

At present you have no name, as is the norm for all the dolls in this institution. Your husband shall name you when you come into his care. You will stay in his care until your dying day as, once married, you are, of course, his personal property. He believes you to be 16-years old and to have chosen this course in life freely. Naturally, he shall never learn otherwise, for not only are you now a doll but you are also a full-time Lady of Leisure and therefore communication is forbidden.

Naturally, as a doll, you are to have no opinions and no personality. You are just to be. This is something that we engrain in our students from the day that they are first dollified. However, I do appreciate that whilst they have years to acclimatise themselves to their new reality – and many of them have chosen such a reality – neither apply to you. Therefore, I shall allow you a question, the last that you will ever be allowed to ask. Edith, pass her the pen and notebook.”

The maid passed me the pen and, in my trembling, rubberised hand, I took it and wrote shakily, “Why me?”

The maid passed it to the headmistress who looked at me with a pitying, almost human look for the first and last time ever. “Why you? To put it simple, because you became involved with Jacob Hunter MP. He is a married man with a penchant for young girls. But there are problems with such a hobby, particularly when your wife is the niece of the Prime Minister. So, he keeps his mistresses well-hidden in the house that he has bought specifically for that purpose – 34 Bedford Place I believe – and enjoys them until he is bored of them. And then he contacts us, drugs them and dollifies them, leaving this institution to dispose of them to loving husbands or guardians. A tad unethical maybe, but extremely profitable; it is his donations to this institution that are funding my retirement in Eastbourne. And why does he dollify them? Because a doll can never tell the newspapers about his infidelities. It guarantees silence and respectability and for a man with hopes of becoming prime minister one day, that is worth more than gold.”

And so, I became a doll and am a doll to this day. The evil bastard! He goes around fucking whatever girl he wants, taking their youth and innocence and then casting them on the scrapheap as I was, turning them into dolls, silence and placid.

And while he fucks, I merely dream about it, long for it, am driven crazy by this ache in my loins, locked away by a chastity belt put there by a man who is well-intentioned but thinks I’m a 16-year old virgin innocent of the ecstasies of the bedchamber.

God, I hate them all!

13th November 1967

Wednesday was the highlight of this week. Not that it was exactly a highlight, but it was a change and for me that means everything. What tortures me the most (well, about from the frustration down there) is the boredom. How could anyone, ever, choose to become a doll? It is so dull! Just sitting and waiting and then more sitting and waiting and then… you get the picture. I guess to choose such a life you would need to be born into it, to be educated into it from birth so that you think this is what women should be and imagine that being a beautiful (in a weird kind of way) mannequin is the highest ideal that a woman can strive for. Either that or you’re just plain weird. My guess though, based purely on my own experience, is that many of those who “choose” such an arduous path in life are, in fact, forced. This is slavery in the twentieth century. No shackles, chains and manacles, but instead an elegant monoglove, tight corset and false, ceramic smiling face.

But I digress. Wednesday. Wednesday was this week’s highlight because on Wednesday we received an unexpected visitor. It was no less a personage than the Duchess of Devonshire, formerly known as Rebecca Huntington, and one of those weird posh girls who used to visit Daniel.

She came with her maid, her mouth firmly gagged with a fleur de bouche and her arms restrained in the more lenient gigot sleeves manner. Daniel was delighted when he saw her and kissed her cheek before circling her narrow waist – though a full inch broader than mine I do declare! – with his hands. She was shown into the drawing room and her gag removed. She introduced herself to me and then proceeded to chat to my guardian, reliving the good old days when she was a student at the Berkhamsted School for Girls and used to visit Daniel as part of her Community Service lessons. And then, to my astonishment, “for old times’ sake”, she knelt down in front of him, let him unfasten his trousers and proceeded to bring him to completion orally before swallowing his seed and then licking his member clean. Daniel was overjoyed, declaring that she “hadn’t lost any of her skills” and then, calm as you like, they both sat down again and proceeded to discuss her marriage with the Duke of Devonshire and my wardship with Daniel. He told her that I was an excellent house doll and that my presence brought him untold joy, at which point they both turned to me and smiled, and then moved onto another topic.

Sometime later, after they had both consumed a couple of cups of tea, Daniel excused himself in order to use the toilet and us two ladies were left alone together. As soon as he was out of the room, the Duchess stood up with great grace and elegance and walked across to me. Then she stared at my false face and began to speak: “I told everyone that I came here today to see dear old Dr. Edwards and to a degree that is true, but to a greater degree it is a rather large lie. Indeed, what fascinates me the most is not him, but you. I have a cousin who is thinking of dollification and an old school friend who embraced it last year. The whole idea fascinates me: what would make a girl do such a thing? How do you live? What is it like to be permanently silent and helpless? I must admit, the idea both frightens and fascinates me. It also excites me. Oh, how I wish you could talk, you sexy little minx. What secrets could you tell? And what is it like to lie with a doll? I did not tell Dr. Edwards of course, but since marriage I have discovered the joys of sex and I enjoy a lot of it. But little is with my husband. Instead his sister, a darling thing of only seventeen years is my most regular lover. To lie with a woman is exquisite, but to lie with a woman who had been dollified, now I wonder what that is like? We shall not find out of course, but we can do something else…” And then, to my shock and amazement, she leaned over and kissed my faux lips, her tongue entering my stuffed and modified mouth channel. She lingered there for some seconds and then withdrew, panting, her enormous breasts heaving, as too were mine which had been pressed so tightly against hers.

“That was… different,” she declared, staring into my glass eyes. The lips feel soft, almost real, and the inside of your mouth is exquisite, like a second vagina almost, but the rigid, unmoving, expressionless face… I don’t know, I really don’t know. Oh, my dear Libby, you are a woman of mystery, you truly are. I just wish I could unravel your secrets.” And with those words, she returned to her seat and sat down. Moments later, Daniel reappeared. “Have you two ladies been getting on well?” he asked.

“We’ve been having some female bonding,” replied the Duchess with an almost imperceptible wink.

Twenty minutes left… I shall return to my story.

So, I was a doll. They had made me into that. He had. The evil bastard! The man I had loved, trusted even. He took my humanity away. That evening my maid stood me in front of the mirror and I saw what I had become. A rubberised mannequin with enormous breasts (40H I later learnt) and an unreal face. For some reason, perhaps pity, she explained it all to me. She told me that the skin had been coated with a rubberised, breathable material, sprayed on whilst hot and then cooled to my contours. It is permanent. She told me that in the old days, living dolls had to wear latex suits that were removed every few weeks for cleaning. She expanded on this with horror stories about internal plumbing whereby girls consumed their own wastes and thus never needed the toilet. She believed the current situation to be a vast improvement. “The smell when those suits were removed was horrific! I’m just glad that the girls were knocked out with sleeping gas when we did it.” So, maybe I was the lucky one, not being born a decade or two earlier, but it didn’t feel like it.

My head looked vaguely familiar. She explained that my fiancé had a thing for an actress whom he’d also known growing up and had a crush on. He’d wanted to marry her but, to his disgust, she’d declared that she would not wed until thirty, wishing to concentrate on her career. And so, he had created me instead. Later, one day when I was seated in front of a TV, I saw her in a film playing a star-crossed lover. Her name was Juliet Capulet and I cried internally as I watched.

It was explained that the head was made personally for me, with the internal gag fitted first, expanded to the maximum, and then the headpiece attached in two parts, then glued together and the wig, a mane of ebony locks, affixed. It was beautiful… I am beautiful… but in a weird, unreal way, my piercing blue eyes staring at you mindlessly.

The only things that remained of the old Clare Warwick were the stays that squeezed my waist into a miniscule 13 inches. Oh yes, and the chastity belt that had once covered my privates in school. That was back too. No sexual relief until marriage.

But that marriage was not far off. My fiancé visited one day. He was a youngish man and not unattractive. He cooed over me and encircled my waist with his hands. He had a dream of the perfect woman and had created me in pursuit of that dream. As I passively let him fondle my huge, firm, surging breasts, I wondered what life with him would be like. I was never to find out. The very next day he was killed in a motor accident.

I didn’t mourn him as I didn’t know him, but his death threw them into a panic. What does one do with a doll who has already been modified to someone else’s specifications? She’s an expensive liability, a burden that no one wants to take on except at a knocked-down price. Then fate intervened: one of those freaky girls from the posh school came around. She claimed that she, along with some friends, wanted to buy a doll to keep an old man company. I was on the shelf and I was cheap, and, by chance, Olivia Capulet was this old guy’s favourite. So, I became the ward of Dr. Daniel Edwards and the rest is history.

As too is this session, for the alarm is ringing.

 

Part 3

The Diary of Olivia Edwards: Part 1

The Diary of Olivia Edwards

(selected extracts chosen by the editor)

 Copyright © 2019, Dave Potter

Author’s note

This story is a sequel to Dr. Edwards’ Special Birthday Present.

This tale is set in the United Kingdom in the year 1967. It is however, not the United Kingdom that we know. Instead it is an alternate United Kingdom set in an alternative universe. Therefore, much of it is familiar to us, but conversely, much isn’t. In the universe of the story, the United Kingdom is an inward-looking, reactionary society that lags behind many of its neighbours. It is governed by a powerful elite formed of an aristocracy of hereditary landowners and the Church. The Great Reform Acts of the 19th century never happened, and the place of a woman is very much that of a second-class citizen… or subject. She has no rights and no property, she is owned by her father, after his death her brother or uncle, and upon marriage, her husband. Wives are expected to be virgins and all women are corseted.

11th September 1967

So, this is my first entry in this diary. It’s weird. Being able to write. Being able to communicate with someone else like a real human being. Not that anyone will be reading this but even so. He has told me that I have an hour which seems like a long time but my hands, so used to being restrained, so unused to holding a pen, they shake, and struggle and the pen slips out of the satin gloves that cover the kid leather gloves that cover my skin.

There is so much that I want to write but now that I am sitting here I cannot think of anything. Weird.

I shall start with today. It is my birthday you see. Well, actually, it is not my birthday at all, my birthday is in about five months’ time but he has decided that today will be my birthday because today was the birthday of his dead wife and so it is mine too. And, as a present, he gave me this book. It is a beautiful book, bound in red leather with the words THE DIARY OF OLIVIA EDWARDS embossed on the front. And it has a clasp with a lock and the key to it is locked in his desk drawer and only brought out when I have my writing hour. He gave it to me and said that his old wife used to love writing in her diary and so he thought that I might like the same. I didn’t reply of course; I cannot these days, but I did like it even if I still hated him and everyone else in this world for what they have done to me. But the diary made me happy and I am enjoying writing in it and feeling like a human being again if only for an hour. I will write in it everything about my life both now and in the past and maybe my dreams for the future as well. Ha! As if one such as me is allowed dreams, or even opinions or thoughts! Of course not. But here, in this book, I can. I can be a real person again.

And so, I will start by saying who I am. My name. My real name. Not Olivia Edwards like the front of this book says or even Libby as everyone calls me. That is not my name. It only became my name on the day that they gave me to him, those weird, posh girls with their huge tits and tiny waists and weird outlook on life. Not that I am any different these days of course, but unlike them, I didn’t choose it. No, that is not the real me. The real me has a normal-sized waist and 32B breasts, not these 45DD monsters. And she has brown hair, not black, and grey eyes, not blue. She does not look like some film actress and she does not share her name. She is 22 years old and… what is that? The alarm clock. That is what he told me was my warning. I only have five minutes left! I must finish up and lock the diary before then. And so, I shall finish by writing my real name:

CLARE WARWICK

18th September 1967

What a horrible day today was! Not that it was any different from any other day, but it was just so hateful.

After being woken by my maid and then waking him up, I was dressed as usual, my waist laced down to a ridiculous 13 inches so that I can hardly breath and these ridiculous breasts heave up and down in a way that I would find comical if they were not attached to my own body. Then there was breakfast, a smoothie that I sucked up using a straw with the cup hung around my neck whilst he tucked into bacon and eggs and sausages and all manner of things that both smelt and looked heavenly and then… then that was it. He sat down in his armchair and read and did his bloody crossword and had a short nap and talked at me and read some more and watched some TV and I just sat there. Yes, just sat there, all day long, my arms dead from being laced into this unforgiving monoglove, my head spinning from the unbelievable tightness of my stays, my breasts surging up and down and me just sitting there, not moving, not doing anything, just being, like a doll rather than a human being.

Because of course, that is all I am these days. A doll. A bloody doll which looks pretty and provides some entertainment for its owner when he can be bothered, but the rest of the time must just sit on the shelf – or in my case, the settee – and wait. “Oh, what a lovely dolly you have there!” they all say to him, before congratulating him on his sense of social duty for taking in such a “poor, unwanted thing” whereas to me, they just say nothing. Well, the women that is; they stare sometimes, but they never speak to me. The men are different of course; they often ask if they can feel my waist (ask him, not me, naturally) and then circle it with their hands and congratulate him on what a wonderful and delightful middle his toy has. Yes, they even use the word toy. Some, when he is out of the room, do more. They give my bulging breasts a stroke and a squeeze and then kiss my ridiculous lips, before replacing my fleur de bouche. It is so humiliating. I long to scream out at them, “I am not a fucking doll, I am a living, thinking, feeling human being just like you!” but of course I don’t because I can’t. all I can do is sit there and look pretty which is all that a doll is meant to do after all.

Not that any woman stared at me today, nor any man circled my waist, or felt up my tits or shoved his tongue in my mouth. To be honest, if they had, I’d have been glad. It would have broken up the monotony, the terrible, mind-crushing monotony of it all. But there were no visitors today and no other diversions. It was raining you see, as it does far too much at this time of year. When it doesn’t rain, he sometimes suggests that we go for a “constitutional”. By this he means a short walk around the park or the town. To be honest, this is far from easy for me. The heels that I wear constantly these days that force my feet into the unnatural position favoured by ballet dancers, so that I am forever perched on my toes, making walking even a few steps a trial, let alone a circuit of the park. I feel so unsafe on them, even now, precariously placing one foot directly in front of the other, moving at a snail’s pace, each step both exhausting and terrifying as, without my hands to provide me with any balance (ensconced as they always are in this accursed monoglove) I know I could topple over at any moment. Of course, he holds me with one hand around my waist (the other holds the end of my leash – my God, I find having to wear that humiliating!) but even so, I am still scared. And even at that pace we have to stop every few yards for my tortured lungs to recover.

Yes indeed, those walks are far from pleasant yet even they provide me with some distraction. Today though, the rain beating against the windows, there was none. Unlike him, I had no book to read and the TV was at the wrong angle (not that I can hear it clearly anyhow). So, I just sit there. It makes me so angry! I am a 22-year old woman, young and full of life and energy. I should be walking the streets, chatting with friends, doing sports or just living and yet instead I am forced to live with this septuagenarian, like being put into an old folk’s home fifty years before my time. It is so unfair, so very unfair!

The alarm rings. I must finish now.

25th September 1967

I have told you about my days – they are all the bloody same so telling you about one is the same as telling you about all of them – but I mentioned nothing about the nights so that is what I have decided to write about today. Indeed, I have been thinking about it for most of the week; after all, I don’t have anything else to think about these days. I imagine what I will write, then rewrite it in my head, then rewrite it again and again and again. This must be my twelfth draft and I still haven’t started telling my tale yet.

I must admit that when I was given to Dr. Edwards, my feelings were a mixture of revulsion and thankfulness. This might not make sense to you (whoever you might be) who has not been transformed into some sort of sick plaything for men, unable to have a will or mind of her own, but it is the truth. I was originally promised to some hat manufacturer from Luton who had been wanting a doll for some time but had ummed and arred about both the price and the design. He was in his late twenties and I must admit that when he came to see me in the school for our “engagement” (what a sick perversion of what should be such a warm and happy occasion!) I found him to be rather attractive if overly leery. But then, out of the blue, he died (a motor accident I believe) and so, suddenly, I was ownerless and available again. The problem was, being designed for someone else, I was far from being a choice specimen (plus my age went against me, although they solved that easily enough) but, as chance would have it, my head design was based on that of some actress and when two of those weird girls from the posh school came looking in the school for their old teacher and they saw that I looked just like his favourite masturbation fixation, then, well, it was a match made in heaven and here I was, farmed off to a man old enough to be my grandfather.

Of course, we wouldn’t be getting married. I was to be his ward and he would nurture and care for me until I could find a suitable spouse. But I have lived in this sick world long enough to understand what that meant in reality: being a ward means being a doll for him to play with as he wants. And that sickened me: being used by an old man.

And yet, at the same time, I also looked forward to it. A woman has needs and, under this ridiculous mask, I am still a woman. Plus, I was used to having those needs fulfilled in my former life and, after weeks of frustration and inability to do anything about them, even the thought of being taken by a geriatric was bearable. The need for some release was all-consuming.

Little did I know.

After the weird girls with their bound arms, gargantuan tits and puffed-up lips had all departed, I was left alone with Edwards. I had noticed that his member was rock-hard and creating a distinct bulge in his trousers and so I thought, ‘Uh oh Clare, here it comes!’ And, sure enough, he sat me on his knee like one would a little girl, squeezed my bottom through the folds of my gown and then stroked my own ridiculous tits with his hands before then letting both hands rest circling my middle. He kissed my face too and I mentally prepared myself for the next step when… when it stopped. “My dearest Libby, it is so delightful having you here in my house; let me assure you that I shall act as a father to you, appropriate at all times, caring and nurturing of this little lost dolly who has been thrust into my care.”

And, do you know what, he has kept to his word! While my sex aches for attention, is desperate for penetration and fulfilment, I find myself stuck with some paragon of virtue, a man for whom Christianity is more than just a convenient label and who would never ever dream of touching me down there. Instead, the hateful chastity pants that I was introduced to in that hell-pit of a school have stayed on and my burning desire remains unquenched.

Which brings me to the nights.

Every evening I am taken by my maid at eight, undressed, bathed and my evening enema is endured. Then, my monoglove is relaced, my night stays fitted (these are two inches larger and leave my breasts uncovered) and a silken slip, embroidered and edged with lace, lowered over my head and fastened around my neck with a ridiculous frilly collar. It is in white of course; it signifies my “virginity”. Bedtime boots which are heelless and hold my feet en-pointe, are then laced onto my feet (reaching to the knees) and from my cuffed ankles as chain goes to the posts at the foot of the bed.

Immobilised thus, I wait. He always arrives around half an hour later, freshly bathed and smelling of soap. He lies in the bed next to me, undoes his crotch and, when his member has sprung out, positions my head over it. I bring him to fulfilment whilst he strokes my head. After swallowing his seed, I am expected to cuddle up against him. He will talk to me as if I were a little girl and then, using my bosom as a pillow, he then falls asleep. I never can do the same. Pressed against a male body, his tool brushing my most intimate areas and the silk of my nightgown heightening further my arousal, I am also insane with lust. But, the chastity pants on and my arms ensconced in that damnable monoglove, there is absolutely nothing I can do to sate myself.

And those are my nights. He usually wakes once in the night to pass water, the acrid liquid trickling down my throat as I hover between waking and sleeping, and in the mornings I bring him to fulfilment again.

But who fulfils me, eh? Shall I ever be fulfilled again?

 

2nd October 1967

I was going to talk about something completely different this week but the events of today have changed things. I feel so humiliated that there is only one thing on my mind and that is my fucking status as “Daddy’s Little Girl”.

It all stems from a lie. A lie that they told Daniel – that’s Edwards’ first name – when I was given to him as his ward. I was there at the time. The day after I was presented to him by those weird posh girls, a representative of the Chesham Doll Academy came around to speak to him. I was present at the time, sitting prim and proper on the settee like a good little dolly should. “She doesn’t have a name, Dr. Edwards, none of our students do. Their names are removed from their registration certificates upon dollification and replaced with the simple ‘Dolly’. To aid bureaucratic matters, we accord each student a number – she was fourteen – but as for a name, that is for you to decide. She is your dolly and, like a little girl names her toys, so too should you name yours.”

“But does she mind?” he had protested (I liked him for that). “I mean, maybe there is a name that she prefers or wants. What if I gave her the wrong one?”

The representative looked at him with a pitying smile. “Your late wife and her companions were Ladies of Leisure, were they not?”

“Indeed, they were, sir, and exemplary ones at that!”

“But they were not dolls, and you have never before possessed a living doll, am I right?”

“You are indeed, sir.”

“Then the misunderstanding is only natural, doctor. Dolls do not have opinions or preferences or thoughts or anything approaching a personality at all. They choose that path in life because they don’t want to have them, they despise the responsibility they bring. Number 14 here was overjoyed to cast them aside and empty her mind on the day she was dollified; the idea of being asked such things would only worry and confuse her.”

Angered by these words, I started to squirm and tried to shake by encased head. But the message did not get through correctly.

“Look doctor, even the thought of being asked an opinion distresses her.”

“Indeed, you are correct! How terrible of me to burden her so.”

“You only acted for the best, but the mistake is due to the fact that you see this object as human with all that entails. It was once, perhaps, but no longer. It is a doll, nothing more. And so, the name…?”

“Well, I was thinking of Libby… Olivia that is.”

“A beautiful choice, doctor. Olivia Edwards is what I shall fill in on her documentation.”

“It says here that she was born on the 01/05/1965. That would make her only two and a half years old. Surely that is a mistake?”

“No doctor, it is correct. That is the day when she was dollified, on her fourteenth birthday, the earliest we are legally allowed to dollify in this country. And as dollification is a rebirth, then that is the date we put down.”

“So, she is really sixteen?”

“That is correct, doctor.”

I squirmed and resisted again at this and again I sent out the wrong message.

“Please doctor, do not say such things. Even such basic reminders of her former humanity distress her. The Chesham Doll Academy works hard to make all human traits hateful to our students. Reminding Olivia of her human birthdate is distressing her.”

“Oh, my dearest Libby, I am so sorry!”

Sorry he may have been, but why were they lying about my past. I was dollified a month before, not two and a half years, and I was twenty-two, not sixteen. Something was up, ethically and legally, and I was the victim!

“What of marriage, sir?”

“The earliest that a human may wed is sixteen, doctor, although waiting until eighteen is generally advised due to humans making mistakes. But as a doll cannot choose, then this does not apply. Marry her off when you like, but we suggest you enjoy her company first, particularly with regards to your stress issues. It will be good training for when she is wed.”

And so, he did… and still does. He loves dressing me up in ridiculous outfits suited for the teenage girl he thinks I am, reading me children’s stories and treating me as if I were still a child and innocent of the ways of the world.

Well, almost innocent. He doesn’t hesitate to shove his cock in my modified mouth for regular relief of course.

But apart from that I am treated like a little girl at all times. People come and visit and talk about how cute and well-behaved I am before presenting me with a doll or something and whenever they speak to Daniel about me, they always stress how kind he has been in taking on some helpless, lost little dolly and being like a second daddy to me.

You would have thought that, with all my other troubles, this shouldn’t bother me for some reason, but it does. Because, when all’s said and done, that little girl dolly that they all coo over is neither a girl nor a doll but instead a living, breathing grown woman with needs, sexual needs, that torment her twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Oh God how I long for some release, please! But instead no, instead I sit there, prim and innocent, daddy’s little fucking girl and… the alarm, time is up, it is over.

If only I could say the same about my frustrations!

 

Part 2

阿纳斯塔西娅的故事

阿纳斯塔西娅的故事

作者:Dave Potter 译者:佳蘅 微信公众号:火星文学讲习所

在另一个平行宇宙中的不列颠,社会仍然遵循着维多利亚时代的时尚和价值观,但运用新的技术男人们可以对他们的女人进行远超维多利亚时代水平的恋物改造。在这个世界,我们的女主角阿纳斯塔西娅本是位年轻、独立的苏联女孩,当她发现自己的父亲竟然是个英格兰贵族后,她决定前往不列颠,结果一到那里她就发现自己将身不由己地变成一位金丝雀女士了……

作者笔记

这篇故事的背景设定在1967年的联合王国。然而却不是我们熟知的那个英国,而是另一个平行宇宙中的英国。因此,很多地方对我们来说很熟悉,当然相应地也有很多地方不熟悉。在本篇故事的世界里,联合王国是一个反动的国家,对外面的世界漠不关心,比它的许多邻居都落后。它被一群权力很大的世袭的精英土地贵族和教会所统治。1832年的议会改革(译注:原文为The Great Reform Acts of the 19th century,指发生在1832年的英国议会改革,这次改革扩大了选举权的范围,削弱了地主阶级同时增强了工业资产阶级的政治力量)从来没有发生过,妇女的地位更像是二等公民…或者叫臣民。她们没有任何权利和财产,在未出嫁前她们属于她们的父亲所有,如果父亲死了就属于她们的兄弟叔伯说有,在出嫁后则归丈夫所有。她们被要求在婚前必须是处女,所有的女人都得束腰。

然而这个世界上的其他国家却都比联合王国发展得要快。在欧洲,最发达的国家是苏联,这是唯一一个妇女几乎可以在所有方面和男性享有平等地位的国家。这都是拜1905年的社会主义大革命所赐(译注:现实中1905年俄国革命失败了,但被列宁称为是1917年10月革命的“总演习”),在苏联女性可以投票、工作、参军、拥有财产和离婚。追随列宁的妻子伊涅萨•阿尔芒(译注:Inessa Armand,1874-1920,共产主义者和女权运动的先驱。现实中是列宁的情人和战友,可能是1919年莫斯科最有权势的女人。但现实中列宁的妻子始终是娜杰日达•克鲁普斯卡娅)的先例,苏联的女人们扔掉了她们的束腰,转而用一种无产阶级的、更加自由的风格打扮自己。就在我们的故事发生的年代,苏联控制了世界上绝大部分的土地,只在中国和往日的荣光已日渐衰退的德国还有一些值得苏联重视的抵抗。

本文受到的启发很大程度上来自Alice McCloud的小说Imperial Lace。然而必须要说明的是她的那个平行宇宙中的不列颠和我的并不完全一样。

第一章

阿纳斯塔西娅•科尔雅科诺娃迈步走下齐柏林空艇(译注:飞艇在飞机兴起前曾作为一种主要的空中交通工具流行过,看起来在这个平行宇宙中它还没有退出历史舞台)然后进入伦敦的航站楼。她的心脏在胸腔里不安地跳动。她在这里会遇到什么呢?英国是什么样子呢?她的妈妈又是什么样子呢?…她的脑子里满是这样的问题,还有更杂乱的思绪;她等待这一天很久了,既期待又害怕。

她深吸了口气,但却被身上的衣服所阻止。阿纳斯塔西娅烦死身上愚蠢的束腰了。在莫斯科的时候她绝对不会穿这些东西,但是她听说不列颠的警察对穿苏联风格衣服的女士可一点也不友好,所以当飞艇经停柏林的时候,她想还是买几件欧洲人的衣服更明智。但是,她买的这些衣服穿在身上并不舒服,沉重、笨拙,束腰同时还削弱了她的力气。

“也许我用不着穿它们太久?”

她第一次穿上的时候如是想,但是当她发现所有她看到的女人都穿束腰,而且绝大部分都比她束得紧得多的时候,她意识到为何苏联风格的打扮在这里会不受欢迎了。自从进入德国国境线以后她就没见过一位女士露出的脚腕或是手掌——她们都穿长裙戴手套,就算是下层阶级的女人也一样。但是同时,她们的衣服又并非所有地方都这么保守:看起来不论在哪里女性起伏的胸膛和深深的乳沟都是时髦的。当然了,阿纳斯塔西娅并不是个时尚的姑娘,就算以苏联的标准看也不是,不过她还是注意到了束腰给她的身材带来的改变:她瘦小的乳房现在看起来大多了,就像个发福的中年妇女似的,对此她并不十分喜欢。
但是为什么我们的女主角阿纳斯塔西娅会一个人孤零零地乘坐飞艇,降落在这个离她的出生地有数千公里之遥的地方呢?好吧,为了回答这个问题,我们需要去回顾一下她的成长经历……

阿纳斯塔西娅•科尔雅科诺娃16年零两个月前出生在莫斯科,她的父亲叫安德烈•科尔雅科诺夫,她的母亲则是英国驻苏联大使的女儿克莱尔•汉密尔顿-斯迈思。她的父母在一次大使馆组织的活动中相遇,(科尔雅科诺夫是位苏联公务员),她们在看到彼此的第一眼就相爱了。在被勇猛的斯拉夫人推倒之后,克莱尔发现自己陷入了不为本国法律所容的私通之中,而阿纳斯塔西娅就是这段关系结出的果实。苏联人并不在意,因为在他们开明的无产阶级理想国中,许多情侣都会未婚生子。但是相反英国人却对此感到恐惧。克莱尔想嫁给科尔雅科诺夫,但她的父亲早已把她许给了别人,而且她父亲的地位也不容许他悔婚。怀孕的事情被瞒了下来,但还是一点一点地告诉了克莱尔的未婚夫。尽管出了这样的事情,克莱尔的未婚夫仍然同意娶她,(虽然他要求更多的嫁妆),因为汉密尔顿-斯迈思勋爵是他的雇主。悲痛欲绝的克莱尔试图同科尔雅科诺夫私奔,但是被她的父亲提前发现了,克莱尔于是被紧急运回了英国。就这样,阿纳斯塔西娅从来没有见过自己的母亲,也没有见过任何英国亲戚。

当然了,如果只是这样的话阿纳斯塔西娅还不会感到烦恼,因为深爱她的父亲一直陪伴着她,她在苏联上学,加入少先队。阿纳斯塔西娅(或者像她的朋友们那样称她为“阿尼”)不仅是个出色的学生还是位出色的运动员,她保持着她们州的500米和1000米跑最快纪录。她还是网球和排球队的队员,定期还会去游泳。生活对她的馈赠是如此优厚,她喜欢去森林远足,周末她会在乡间别墅里度过,而周中她可以接受这个世界上最好的教育。运动员的体魄和天生的智慧结合在一起,让她已经能看到美好的未来在向她招手了。她希望她能成为一名红军的高级军官。她已经在上预备军官学校了,而且下一年她就可以进入著名的军事学院。生活是如此的美好。生活对她一直是美好的,直到1966年的11月21日,一位身穿制服的警察敲开了她的家门,告诉她她的父亲因为意外事故不幸去世了:她的父亲在横穿马路时没有注意到有轨电车,被撞死了。她的世界一下子变成了昏暗,她整日以泪洗面。眼泪很快变成了惊讶,一位律师来到她家,告诉她现在她的监护人是远在英国的母亲和母亲的丈夫——她的继父,而他们要求她从现在起就去英国和他们生活在一起。于是,她收拾行装,在惊讶与兴奋之中同朋友们告别,登上了飞往柏林的空艇,迎接在海对面的岛屿的新生活……

在航站楼的国际到达大厅,阿尼惊讶地看到只有一个男人过来迎接她。“打扰一下小姐,”那男人说,“不知我是否可以假定,您就是阿纳斯塔西娅•科尔雅科诺娃小姐?”

“是的先生,”她用她在学校里学到的带口音的英语说道。

“很好,”他笑着回答说。“我是科赞勋爵,我的家人都叫我罗伯特,而你也确实是我的家人,因为你母亲在同你的父亲…呃,幽会…之后就同我结婚了。”

阿尼很失望。她曾期待母亲会来机场接她,但是显然这次不是。她迫不及待地想要见一见自己的母亲,她以前只在父亲给她的一张发黄褪色的小照片上见过母亲,可她更想知道母亲的真人是什么样子。“见到你是我的荣幸,先生,”她说,伸出手去想要同科赞勋爵握手。

罗伯特•科赞皱了皱眉,然后躬身凑到阿尼耳朵旁。“在英国女性同男士握手并不合适,”他低语,“虽然在俄国这肯定没什么。你应该行屈膝礼。”

“抱歉,”阿尼也低声回道,然后她夸张地弯曲膝盖照着电影里看到的样子对罗伯特行了个屈膝礼。

“好多了,”罗伯特说,“现在上车!”

“汽车”是不列颠给阿尼的另一个惊讶。不同于苏联线条流畅的现代汽车,英国的汽车显然不是为了速度而制造的。相反车子又高又宽还很华丽。车里的空间高的就像一个小屋子一样,站在里面都不用担心头碰到车顶。穿着制服的司机在车前面一个单独的驾驶室里开车。司机一看到他们就立刻从驾驶室出来然后为他俩打开了车门。“谢谢你,同志,”阿尼微笑着对司机说,但是司机却没有回复。“去联排别墅,格里夫斯!”科赞勋爵命令道,然后车就开了。

车子一开动,科赞勋爵就坐到了阿尼的对面,(苏联汽车的座位使乘客都面朝前坐,但英国的汽车并不是这样),然后开始说道:

“科尔雅科诺娃小姐,有许多事情我必须向你解释,而现在正是开始的最好时机。首先,我能感到你并不高兴,或许是因为你的母亲没有来接你?”阿尼点了点头,注意到他说话最大的特点就是句子都很长。“我猜就是这样。别担心,你很快就会见到你的母亲,但是今天不行。原因是她的那桩丑事还从来没有公开过,而如果被人发现了的话我们家族的名誉就会受到损失。如果被人看到在公共场合你叫她‘妈妈’,那一切就完了。此外,你现在的样子也不适合出现在英国的上游社会。如你所见,我们这里的规则和俄国很不一样,尤其在女性的衣着和举止上。你此刻还不属于我们的国家,但我注意到你已经试着融入我们了——对此我表示感谢。你身上的衣服,从哪买的?”

“德国,先生。”

“的确,我衷心地感谢你愿意尝试融入我们的社会。不过,德国的衣服并不是英格兰风格的而且也不适合一个像你这样属于上层社会的人穿。我知道在俄国你们已经把“阶级”这个词扔进故纸堆里了,但在这里它还活得好好的,实际上阶级制度是我们社会的基础,而你的母亲和我都出身于一个真地非常高的阶级因此你也属于我们这个阶级。但是不同的阶级对于着装有不同的要求,你现在这身只适合中下层阶级,也包括德国的中下层阶级。进一步说,你的头发对于生活在英国的人来说太不合适了,剪得这么短的都是男孩的发型。所以在你的发型得到改正以及买来合适的衣服之前,你应该继续穿你在俄国的衣服。而我们也可以继续假装你只是一个来英国旅游的俄国游客或是军方人士,我则是你的向导。对我来说陪同你在伦敦参观是合适的,但对你的母亲来说由她陪同你在公共场合露面就是不合适的了,所以你只有打扮成英国女士的样子我才能带你去我们在肯德莱斯顿的家见她。我知道英语对你来说不是母语,我说的这些你都明白了吗?”

“是的,先生,”阿尼说,罗伯特说的绝大部分她都听懂了,她的手指轻轻地抚摸自己栗色的短发。

“现在我们马上就到了,但是在下车之前,还有件事情,请不要用‘同志’称呼这里的任何人,尤其是仆人。这个词在我们这里很不受欢迎,因为它带有一种试图摧毁我们神圣的阶级壁垒的意味。现在,我们到了,欢迎你来我的联排别墅,科尔雅科诺娃小姐。”

阿尼下车,这一次没再跟司机道谢。然后她进了别墅,以苏联的标准来看这别墅堪称巨大,她发现自己置身于一间宏伟的门厅里,三个穿着挺括的黑白相间制服的女仆在等着他们,她们都穿着束腰,而且腰束得都比阿尼紧得多。他们一进去科赞勋爵就宣布:“科尔雅科诺娃小姐,我想你经过一段长途旅行之后一定累了。请让珀金斯带你去你的房间休息几个钟头吧。我们6点开晚饭,饭后我们可以讨论一下未来几天的计划。一会儿见。”

罗伯特说完,阿尼就跟着穿黑白制服的其中一位女仆上楼到了一间很大的卧室,卧室里有带四个床柱的大床,一整排镜子和一个巨大的衣柜。最让她疑惑的是一个从天花板上垂下来的吊架,就像小秋千一样,她猜这肯定是某种健身器材,或许是用来锻炼上肢肌肉的,因为她曾在红军预备军官学校的训练营里见过类似的东西。

“小姐,我可以帮您解开带子脱衣服吗?”珀金斯问道。

“不,我不需要,谢谢…”阿尼回道,总算在最后想起来不要说“同志”。于是女仆离开了,而阿尼则带着高兴的心情沉沉睡去。

第二章

阿尼醒了,经过睡眠的放松重新恢复了精神。在梦里她回到了苏维埃社会主义共和国联盟,作为少先队的一员在松树林里探险,可是醒来发现自己躺在伦敦一张四柱床上的现实却还是让她惊讶得合不拢嘴。她瞥了一眼墙上的挂钟发现已经5点半了,意识到快该吃晚饭了,她于是起床让自己振作起来然后换好衣服,按照科赞勋爵的意思她仍然穿着之前在苏联穿的衣服下楼吃饭。

晚饭平平无奇:羔羊肉配土豆,胡萝卜浇肉汁。在一张长得足够坐下20个人的桌子上,阿尼和科赞勋爵分坐两边,阿尼几乎只有用喊才能与他交流。饭后他们“离席”去会客厅,那里有皮手椅和烧得正旺的炉火。正是在那里他们开始了当天真正的商谈。

“你知道,其实正常情况下你是没有资格进这里的,”两人刚一坐下科赞就对阿尼说。“从规矩上讲女士是没有资格进会客厅的,但是我必须承认,你这身衣服让我没法把你当成科尔雅科诺娃小姐(译注:黑体字原文为法语,下同)。”

阿尼看了看她身上的衣服:女式白衬衫和灰裤子,如果是在莫斯科吃晚饭这很正常。配上短发她也知道自己看起来有点阳刚,特别是和穿着长裙的英国女孩子相比!

当然了,阿尼还没有见过多少英国女性,但就她见过的来说已经给她留下了一个深刻的印象。所有的英国女性,无一例外,都穿长裙,她们的裙子有好几层,裙撑占地很大使裙子穿上后就像浮在地上的一个巨大的泡泡,但是这个泡泡在腰部会因为束腰的存在而猛然收得很细。是的,所有的女孩都束腰,从仆人到贵妇。她曾从车窗外观察过很多女人,无论是穷人还是富人她们都束腰,许多人——尤其是那些看起来是富人的——都束得很紧。她见到过一个女孩的腰是那么的细以至于让她无法相信竟然有人类可以忍受如此之紧的束缚而仍然活着。她猜那个女孩的脸庞一定很红而且呼吸一定很短,但当阿尼往上看想验证自己的猜测时,她却发现女孩的头和脸都被一顶巨大的包头软帽(译注:一种在颏下系带,帽前有宽边的女式帽子)遮盖住了,那帽子还带有蒙住脸的厚厚的面纱。而且就在这时汽车开远了,远远地只能看见女孩的轮廓。所以,她永远也没法知道自己猜对了没有!

的确,无边软帽在伦敦很常见。所有女性出门都会戴各种样子的头饰,绝大多数都会选择那种精心制作的极其女性化的包头软帽,这种帽子上饰有羽毛、蕾丝或其他任何轻浮的装饰。实际上这里所有的女式服装都可以说是极其的女性化,无疑这就是这个时代的要求。而穿着从德国买来的裙子阿尼觉得自己肯定是全英国打扮最朴素的那个。

“那么,”科赞勋爵继续说,“我们的第一个任务就是给你的衣柜里填充进合适的英国服装。我们明天就开始着手这件事,但愿一天内我们能找到合身的衣服。我说合身是因为英国的服装,如果你已经注意到了的话,因为某些原因要比俄国的服装难穿得多,当然你还需要更多的训练才能成为金丝雀女士,这是你命中注定的。但是我们明天可以先完成对你的最低要求——买好旅行穿的裙子还有换个发型,别的先不管。然而看起来像是一回事,真正成为金丝雀则是另一回事了。关于你在这里的新生活你思考过多少,阿纳斯塔西娅?”

这是罗伯特第一次叫她的名字而非姓氏。“没有,先生,真没有。先父(译注:原文为tatko,是斯洛伐克语的父亲)…我是说我父亲死后,呃,我的生活就…”

“阿纳斯塔西娅,我很理解你的心情,想必你经历了一段非常悲伤的时光。但是,虽然你没有思考过,我思考了,我必须承认,你父亲的去世把我们置于了一个很微妙的境地。你看,阿纳斯塔西娅,正如我在车上说过的那样,任何情况下你出生的真相都不能被公之于众,否则那将不仅是对我的妻子、孩子和我自己的灾难,对你也是一样。作为一个非婚生子,你永远也没法在英国的社会里抬起头来。举个例子来说,就算有几百万镑的嫁妆,任何可敬的绅士还是连看都不会看你一眼,你能期望的最好的结局就是当个女家庭教师或是妓女。不用说,这样的结局肯定不用考虑,因此在我给你编的故事里你是我已故的哥哥和他的俄国妻子生的女儿,(你知道我的哥哥曾经被外交部派驻到莫斯科),你的母亲在你生下来后去世。你由你的俄国舅舅抚养长大,你为了报答他所以继承了他的姓氏,但是在他也去世后,我同意不仅作你的监护人而且为你提供嫁妆。这个故事可以解释你的俄国口音和我为什么要给你嫁妆,而且丝毫无损你的闺誉。但是还是留有几个小问题需要解决。首先是你的名字。如果你出于敬意继承了你原来的监护人的姓氏,那么现在你也应该做同样的事情。所以,明天我们就去户口登记处把你的姓改成‘科赞’。进一步来说,你应该能感觉到,阿纳斯塔西娅这个名字对于一个英国女士来说非常不合适,所以你的名字将会改成‘安妮’,为了纪念我们伟大的女王。我说的这些你都明白了吗…安妮?”

阿尼想要高声尖叫,“不!不!我才不想改成英国名字呢,我是苏联公民!”但是科赞强硬的姿态让阿尼害怕同他争执,所以她只是逆来顺受地回复说:“好的,先生。”

“很好,那么,让我们看看…衣服、头发、名字…还有…啊对了,宗教。俄国是个无神论国家是吧,所以我假定你还没有受洗过?”

“没有,先生,从来没有。”

“我怕的就是这个。那么,明天下午我们就去‘田野里的圣马丁教堂’(译注:一座现实中也存在的英国国教教堂),我已经安排好了斯尼德神甫让他为你施洗。我找了两个朋友当你的教父教母,别担心。”

“但是我并不信上帝啊,科赞大人。”

“安妮,这不重要。在英国这里,一个人必须受洗,你不能不这样做。如果你不是英国国教的信徒,你就必须信罗马天主教、卫理公会派或者是个犹太人。如果都不是你就只能离开这个国家,而且只有信仰英国国教你才能享有所有的权利。你看,你需要有信仰,但与宗教无关。”

“哦。”阿尼震惊了。看起来她所有的人生、她的本性都在她眼前被改变了,而她对此却无能为了。“先生,我害怕。”她说。

科赞勋爵笑了:“安妮,你不用害怕。你马上就要开始的是只有英格兰真正的特权阶层才能享有的生活,作为金丝雀的生活。许多人都渴望站到你的位置上呢。”

“我承认,但是…”

“没什么但是,上床去吧女孩,明天对你将是忙碌的一天…”

再没有什么别的词语能比科赞勋爵说的“忙碌”更真实了,因为接下来的一天被证明的确非常的忙碌。珀金斯很早就把阿尼叫醒,服侍她穿上苏联陆军预备军官学校的制服。

当她问起来时,女仆告诉她这是科赞勋爵的命令,因为阿尼最好还是维持自己是个来英国参观的苏联军方人士的假象。早餐之后阿尼遇见了她的继父,他俩一起坐车去往市中心,汽车停在了“圣•洛朗先生的”时装店外面,那商店看起来十分奢华。科赞勋爵领着她走近了店里,一位身穿荷叶边长裙、腰束得非常紧的店员讨好地迎了上来,招待他们直接去了店面后面的私人房间。之后有店员奉上茶水,等了一会儿后圣•洛朗先生就亲自来招待他们了。

“那么,罗伯特,这就是你跟我说过的那个女孩,嗯?我看对于她我们的确有许多工作要做…”

阿尼不喜欢——也没有完全理解——这位时装设计师的话,但她已经学会了保持沉默。

“没错,伊夫,但我确信你正是那个创造奇迹的人,”罗伯特勋爵回道。

!‘奇迹’这个词用在这里太大了。是要做很多工作,没错,但她很有潜力。只要穿上正确的衣服经过正确的训练,她不仅仅能成为合格的淑女,还会成为她们之中的典范呢。她的身体很柔软,腰围肯定可以束得很细。但是这头发,我的上帝啊!这是暴殄天物!”

当他说到这里的时候,他的手指正抚过阿尼栗色的短发。阿尼不喜欢别人这样粗暴地干涉自己的隐私。“这是莫斯科的时尚,先生,”她针锋相对地评论道。

圣•洛朗先生立刻收回了手。“在莫斯科是的,但是莫斯科既不是伦敦也不是巴黎。在这里我们有文雅的规矩和阶级的划分,而莫斯科那里有…你们怎么说来着…平等。你心里对这个斯拉夫美人的定位到底是什么,罗伯特?”

“金丝雀女士,肯定的。她是我们家庭的一员也就应该和我们享有同样的社会地位,哪怕她的起点有几分瑕疵。”

当然,但是对于这样一位远远超越了我们的时代的小姐来说,金丝雀女士会是一个很高的标准。通常金丝雀们十二、三岁就开始训练了…”

“但是你自己也说她身体柔软很有魅力。”

确实,这是事实。但是就算这样,这也是个挑战。不过,这是对她的教育者的挑战,不是我的。我的挑战就是在接下来的几天里为她准备衣服,然后还有长期的衣服。你对此是怎么打算的,罗伯特?”

“呃,在伦敦她只需要一条旅行裙子和配套的饰品,还要一件日常礼服。这些足够我们到肯德莱斯顿了。然后是几件晚礼服、晨礼服和日常礼服,再来一条旅行裙子。还有几朵口中花和一个皮手笼。至于无边软帽,要表现女性的娇柔,正常大小就好,还要带面纱,因为我仍然希望她的出现能尽可能地保持低调。”

“拘束具呢?”

“就目前来说,不用,等她将来到学校了再说。”

“你决定让她去哪个学院了吗?”

“加娜小姐的…”

“最好不过的选择了。那么鞋子呢?足尖鞋我想她现在是肯定穿不了的,但是训练应该开始了…”

“你有什么建议?”

圣•洛朗转向阿尼:“小姐,你以前穿过带后跟的靴子或者鞋子吗,没有?”

“很少很少,先生,只在几次舞会上。”

“那么那时的鞋跟有多高?”

“我不知道,大概3到4厘米…?”

我的上帝啊这么低!罗伯特,我们只能从两英寸半开始而且就算这样对她也会很困难。至于到了肯德尔斯顿以后,我会给她准备几双三英寸和四英寸的。我们现在打下的基础会帮住加娜小姐的。我想现在有双靴子就好,至于以后,需要三双靴子和一双拖鞋。”

“听起来还可以。”

“那么现在轮到最重要的一项了,紧身胸衣。你想要什么样的?”
听到这里阿尼的心脏开始剧烈地跳动。她穿德国买的束腰已经很不舒服了,但是就她所见的英国时尚来说,接下来的只会更糟。

“我认为在伦敦只需要一件日用款,以后去了肯德尔斯顿需要日用款、训练款和夜用款各一件。”

“惩罚呢?”

“我会把那留给加娜小姐去决定。”

“如你所愿。那么小姐,我们现在必须给你测量身体和拍照,来,请脱下你的衣服!”

阿尼吓住了。脱下她的衣服,在两个男人面前!这看起来不合适。“但是…”

“小姐,不要抗议,这正常!我是一个属于时尚的男人,而且,多年来我见过的女性身体多到再没有一具能吓到我了。至于罗伯特,怎么了,他是你的监护人!除此之外,我们只有看到你的裸体才能给你准确的测量和拍照,这一切都是工作的需要。”

阿尼轻手轻脚地脱下身上的制服直到她站在那里仅仅穿着胸罩和短内裤。“全部,”圣•洛朗说,同时做出手势表示内衣也要脱掉。罗伯特勋爵只是在一旁似乎享受地看着这一切。

“珂莱特!”圣•洛朗叫道。没过一会儿那个穿着荷叶边裙子的店员就拿着皮尺和相机小步跑了过来。接着时装设计师有条不紊地测量了阿尼身体的每一个细节然后拿起相机从每一个角度对阿尼拍照。

“她以后会接受丰体吧?”在这个过程中伊夫对罗伯特勋爵问道。

“当然,但是我会先咨询加娜小姐。”

“对她来说必不可少,因为她的身材曲线不够明显。胸部和臀部,都需要改进,还有嘴唇。这是我的建议。”

此时,阿尼深深地希望自己要是学过法语就好了。

“现在请穿上你的内衣,小姐。”

阿尼很高兴能穿上衣服,但是让她惊讶的是在她穿衣服的时候圣•洛朗还在拍照。就连最后她穿上自己的制服也被拍下来了。之后科赞勋爵就要离开。

“但是罗伯特,颜色和面料,我们还没讨论呢!”

“我把它留给你决定了,伊夫。”

“我不会让你失望的,保证衣服做得又优雅又高级。你明天下午就可以收到第一批衣服。再见先生再见小姐!”

于是他们就这样离开了,但是只是穿过马路进入了另一家商店,这次这家叫“保罗•米切尔沙龙”。所以,衣服之后,他们要给她做头发了!

“哦上帝啊!”他们一进去店主就尖叫道:“这是个女孩还是男孩呀?!”

“我警告你,肯特先生!”

“没错您是跟我说过,但是就算这样,我还是忍不住惊讶。小姐,请坐到这张椅子上。那么,我看出来你是个俄国人了,所以很显然这就是俄国的风格,但是我担心英国女孩打扮头发的方式和你有点不太一样。不过别担心,我们会把你的发型变成正确的模样!我一个人打理你的头发就够了,同时我的助手玛丽会照顾你的眉毛和指甲。请,把你的头放到后面这里来,闭上眼睛休息一会儿吧。当你离开的时候你肯定会变成一个新的女孩的。”

她的确变成一个不一样的女孩了。她整整休息了三个小时,与此同时她的头发先是洗过然后又是各种打理,而玛丽则为她按摩脸部,修眉,刷睫毛,涂指甲然后是化妆。当肯特先生宣布一切完成,并把她带到镜子前面展示她新的容貌时,有两件事情立刻震惊了阿尼。

第一件是重量。

她抬起头想要看镜子,结果发现头非常地沉重,真地非常沉重。她疑惑地看向发型师而发型师却笑了:“我延长了你的头发,小姐。在英格兰没有一个女孩不是长发及腰,现在你也是了。别担心,我做这个很专业,没有人能看出来真的头发在哪结束假的头发从哪开始的。我现在让你的长发保持直的是因为你还穿着制服,但是当明天你穿上新的衣服再来这里时我会为你做时尚的发型的。”

第二件让阿尼震惊的事情是她镜子里的容貌。那个她熟知的阿纳斯塔西娅•科尔雅科诺娃消失了,取而代之的是一个女性化的、漂亮的、目露惊讶的女士,睫毛长到妨碍了她的视线,鲜艳的红唇仿佛玫瑰的花瓣,脸上涂着胭脂,眉线画得很高还带弓弯。这已经完全就是一个非常英国化的面容了,但是阿尼并不确定自己是不是喜欢这样。不过在另一方面,科赞勋爵却很高兴。

“你又一次超越了自己!这位由我监护的姑娘终于开始像位淑女了。现在安妮,我们必须离开了,我们还有另一项约好了的事情要做。”

保罗•肯特拿出阿尼的红军帽子给她戴在她现在又长又密的头发上面,然后阿尼缓缓离开了沙龙,她的头颅因为长发的重量而不时晃动。

最后这件约好的事情当然是去教堂。他们回到车上,然后汽车带他们到了熙攘的特拉法尔加广场,阿尼惊讶地看到那里有那么多用灰色的石块建造的气势恢宏的建筑。其中一座就是“田野里的圣马丁教堂”。他们走进去,里面有一位神甫和两位打扮得体的贵族夫妇。罗伯特勋爵一看到他俩就打招呼:“伯蒂!里奇!见到你们真是太好了!这就是由我监护的侄女,你们看她怎么样?”

“你真是个小可爱,小姐!”伯蒂说道,而里奇却疑惑地看了看阿尼然后说:“但是如果她能穿上束腰和高跟的话就更可爱了!”

“你好安妮小姐,”教堂牧师说,“欢迎你们来圣马丁教堂。我很高兴地看到你决定迈出这一步,投入主的怀抱,你会很高兴地知道你并非第一个这样做的人。每年,我都会为数百名渴望皈依我们的造物主的人施洗。”

阿尼当然知道这个,在苏联那些去其他国家旅游的背包旅行客中这是最新的疯狂潮流,一些人渴望通过受洗的方式发现自我,然后他们会把洗礼后的教名纹在手臂上。当人们出国后就会做许多疯狂的事情,任何事情。

“那么,就让我们开始吧。”

接下来发生的事情并不漫长,包过接过蜡烛、淋水受洗和宣誓追随耶稣几个步骤。阿尼发现这个过程实际上还是挺有感染力的,尽管她对自己不得不受洗这件事还是感到有点厌恶。无论怎样,洗礼结束后她还是拿到了写着自己新的教名的证书。

接下来他们离开教堂去了户口登记处,在那里她出示了自己的洗礼证明,她新的英国身份得到了注册。事情的结果就是这样。她现在是“安妮•克莱尔•科赞”了。整个过程最终的结果和正式的认证还是让她在心底感到震动。

第三章

接下来的这天上午他们又去了上次那家沙龙,肯特先生认真地为安妮做卷发造型,而玛丽则重新给安妮化妆。这一次的时间没有上一次那么长,但是即便这样,从他们进门到离开时间仍然过去了超过两个小时。这一次让安妮惊讶的是当一切完成后,肯特先生却要求不要让安妮看到镜子,因为“您的化妆风格不适合现在这身无产阶级的服装,只有等到你穿上合适的裙子后才能照镜子。”就这样安妮没法知道她的新发型是什么样子,但是她能感觉得到,每当她行动的时候发卷都会在头上跳跃,而脑后的发髻系得很紧,垂下来的发丝总是轻轻拂过她的后颈。

接着他们穿过马路去了圣•洛朗先生的店。

“啊小姐!我看到了多么惊人的改变啊!多么的妩媚!您的改变难以置信,现在就让我来完成这有肯特先生开启的奇迹吧!请脱下衣服,全部!”

这次脱衣服安妮没有再那么忸怩,但她更担心接下来会发生什么。她的担心是有道理的,因为玛丽拿来的衣服是那么多以至于让安妮感到不知所措,她先穿上丝绸的长筒袜和直筒连衣裙,然后一件束腰被拿了过来,看起来比她原来穿的那件要长得多也紧得多。

玛丽先给安妮穿上束腰,整理好后面的束带后就开始拉紧。“我们今天要达到20英寸,”在玛丽拉紧的同时圣•洛朗评价道。安妮不知道20英寸是多长,因为她只用过公制度量衡,但不管那有多长很快她就开始感到不舒服了。玛丽拉了又拉,安妮感受到的压力越来越大。直到女仆不得不去休息,因为她已经拉得连自己都喘不上气了。圣•洛朗接替了女仆,他拉紧束带的方式堪称狂暴。就在安妮开始感到轻微的头晕时,圣•洛朗给束腰带打上了节,然后拿出皮尺量了量,笑着说道:“刚好比20英寸低一点,完美!”

直到此时安妮才第一次真正体会到束腰的感受。之前那件甚至不曾合拢过,而现在这件正让安妮真切地感受到它的影响。穿着它安妮都快不能呼吸了,也没法弯腰。此时安妮并不知道,这还只是个开始…

束腰完成后安妮连穿了好几条衬裙,然后是真正的礼服,那是一条华丽的有着巨大的荷叶边的长裙礼服,穿上后裙子紧紧地贴住安妮的腰部,再往下则四散膨胀开去。同样让安妮感到惊讶的还有长裙的袖子,那袖子看起来膨胀得特别大。在里面实际上有一个铁丝围成的笼子支撑袖子。

“袖子为什么要弄成这样?”安妮问设计师道。

“这叫羊腿袖,小姐,是最新的时尚。就像气球一样围在手臂上,让你看起来更优雅。”

“但是穿上这样的袖子我还怎么活动手臂,”安妮回道,她挥动手臂演示着,活像只扇翅膀的小鸟。

圣•洛朗和科赞勋爵相视一笑。勋爵说道:“安妮,你现在是个贵族小姐了。贵族小姐用不着自己的双手!她们有仆人服侍。”

说到仆人,玛丽正拿出一副白色的羔皮手套费力地穿到她顾客现在已经接近无用的小手上。手套极其地紧以至于一穿上它们,安妮就发现自己的手指几乎没法活动也抓不住任何东西了。

接下来安妮被领到一把椅子前坐下,(更确切的说是坐在椅子的边沿,因为她的束腰让她已经不能完全坐进椅子里了),一双靴子被穿到了她的脚上。鞋带系好后,安妮刚一站起来就差点向前栽倒,新靴子的后跟让她怎么也站不稳。

但是另一方面,科赞勋爵却显得很高兴,命令玛丽拿相机给穿着一身崭新华服的安妮照相,以记录安妮的每一点“进步”。只有到了这个时候,他们才取下了盖在镜子上的罩布,允许安妮照镜子仔细地打量她新的英式形象。安妮看到的一切让她震惊。昨天的化妆给了安妮洋娃娃一样的肤色,现在又加上了一头香肠卷的发型,安妮只要一走动发卷就跟着跳跃,乳白色的裙子华丽而庞大,裹住纤细的小腰。这再也不是原来那个她了,取而代之的是一个由肯特和圣•洛朗创造的形象,一个出身最顶层英国家庭的女孩,她和苏联一点关系也没有,就像15年来一直生活在英国、从来没有听说过苏联一样。这些完成之后他们就离开了,安妮再也不能自由地活动了,现在她只能晃晃悠悠地迈着小碎步走路。背着沉重如小山一样的衣服和头发,她极其缓慢地向商店敞开的大门挪动,每一次呼吸她的胸脯都随之起伏。

当天晚上她又一次和继父一起坐在那长长的餐桌上吃饭,但这一次她勉强吃了几口就饱了,因为被束腰压缩的胃实在没多少空间。

“我亲爱的安妮,”罗伯特勋爵笑着说,(他显然对这一天来安妮的变化非常满意),“考虑到你现在已经成为了一位真正的女士,今晚我再邀请你去会客厅就不合适了。不过,在我们分别之前有一个问题我必须要问你,尽管这恐怕是个最私密的问题。”

“什么问题,先生?”

“你在俄国的时候,安妮,我恳请你,一定要诚实地回答,是否曾经有过任何形式的,呃…性行为?”

听到这儿安妮的脸红了,她低下头去。穿上新裙子之后,这种属于女孩子的姿态在她身上看起来也更自然了。

“我能把这理解为‘有’吗?”

“是的,先生,我确实有过,一次,和一个男孩,在少先队的露营中。我们…”

“安妮,我不需要知道细节,但我还是感谢你的诚实。晚安姑娘,我们明早再见。”

安妮曾经以为换装和受洗之后,他们就会直接去科赞勋爵在德比郡肯德尔斯顿的宅邸。但是,让她惊讶的是,这一周剩下的时间里他们仍然留在伦敦,她的继父带着她四处游览,参观那些名胜景点,例如白金汉宫和大英博物馆。他解释说对于安妮,此时正是她该去看看自己新的祖国的名声古迹的时候,此外她也可以借此机会适应一下新的服装。对于后一项,罗伯特说的没错,经过几天的适应,安妮发现穿着束腰、靴子和可笑的袖子终于变得容易了一点。但是除此以外,每当他们出行的时候,一件新的累赘又被戴到了安妮的头上,那是一顶巨大的无边软帽,装饰有蝴蝶结和其他没用的小饰品,前面还有一层面纱。

这顶帽子极大地限制了她的视力,不仅眼睛两边的视野被完全挡住了,而且眼前的世界还都被面纱笼上了一层阴霾。当她扭头时帽子并不会跟着转动,于是每当她想看的东西不在她眼前的视野里时,她都必须转动整个的身体。但是即便如此,也不是所有的事情都那么糟糕,一种难以名状的感觉让她觉得自己在这里是受欢迎的,(尽管她还没有完全搞清楚这是为什么),新的衣服让她觉得自己就像是一个童话里的公主,有许多次路人会停下来注视她。她很确定以前她在莫斯科的时候从未体会过这种感觉。

然而在这四处游玩的最快乐的一周过后,接下来的那个周一,当汽车载着安妮停在伦敦南城女性医院前面的时候,她感到十分地惊讶。她的继父要她下车,然后带她进了医院里一间小的私人诊室,在那里一位护士为她奉上了一杯茶。护士身上挺括的制服做工精美。

“但是为什么啊罗伯特叔叔,”(罗伯特要求安妮在公共场合叫他叔叔,因为按照他给安妮编的故事,安妮是罗伯特哥哥的孩子),“我并没有生病啊?”

“我知道你没有,安妮,但是这只是一个必要的检查。喝下这杯茶然后放松就好。”

安妮照做了,马上她就感到头非常的晕,世界开始在她眼前旋转。这时她意识到刚刚的茶水里一定被下了药,随即世界在她眼前化为黑暗。

安妮醒的时候发现自己躺在医院的病床上,珀金斯在她身边。当女仆看见女主人醒了之后,她喂安妮喝了点水接着离开房间去通知罗伯特勋爵。勋爵很快就进来然后珀金斯就离开了。罗伯特锁上身后的房门后就坐到了安妮的旁边。

“发生了什么?”安妮虚弱地问道。

“安妮,有些事情我必须向你解释:你做了一个小手术。你知道,在不列颠,意识形态并不像俄国的那样革命,对于女性来说有一样东西比其他所有东西都重要,那就是童贞。没有哪个英国女孩会在婚前失足进行性交的,而女孩的家长或监护人也有责任保证女孩在新婚之夜前都是处女。但是对于你来说,情况是不同的。我不是要责怪你或生你的气,你已经和一个男人享受过那些了,你过去生活其间的社会允许这样的事情发生,但是在英国其他人不会也这么想。如果你不是一个处女那你就永远没有可能结婚,而一个没有丈夫的女人在英国是难以生存的。因此,我把你送来做了一个小手术,这个小手术修复了你的处女膜——就是你在同男人睡觉时会受到破坏的那层薄膜——所以从生理上来说你又是一个处女了。然后我们把一个金属的腰带戴到了你的性器那里并上了锁,这样就可以确保即使你被哪个青年男子置于一种不利的境地,他也不能对你做出什么进一步的事情。安妮,对于这件事,我恳请你不要生气,也不要告诉任何人,因为这都是为了你好。这是我们两个的小秘密,即便珀金斯也不知道你来医院是为了什么。现在,如果你感到自己已经有了足够的力气,就叫珀金斯来,她会为你更衣,然后我们就可以启程去肯德尔斯顿见你深爱的母亲了。”

说完这话,罗伯特亲吻了安妮的额头然后离开了。当安妮又一次一个人的时候,她哭了。她为自己降落在了这个国家而痛哭。但是同时她并不生罗伯特勋爵的气。她恨英国人看待女性童贞和地位的方式,可她明白自己对此只能遵从,而她的继父只是为了她的最佳利益而行事。她起床,拿起床边的水杯又喝了一口水,然后用纸巾擦干眼泪。“珀金斯!”她叫道。

女仆走进房间,“有何吩咐安妮小姐?”

“给我更衣。”

第四章

到肯德尔斯顿的路途并不算遥远,至少以安妮习惯的苏联标准来看不算。她和科赞勋爵先坐火车到德比北边的圣潘克拉斯车站,然后在那里转乘汽车到离市区有几公里远的勋爵宅邸。一路上,安妮贪婪地饱览她新的祖国的醉人风光和鸟语花香。让她惊讶的是,与苏联相比,联合王国是如此的落后。在历史课上安妮曾经学到,18世纪的英国是领导世界的力量之一,拥有广阔的海外领地。然而她拒不变革,尤其是在国内政治方面,就像曾经同样伟大的西班牙和葡萄牙一样,英国的力量和影响力逐渐削弱,直到现在,她成了一潭死水,被一群独裁的土地贵族所统治,(而如今安妮自己也成了他们中的一员!)。英国的情况同苏联形成了鲜明的对比,1905年,苏联人民打破了封建君主和贵族强加给人民的枷锁,获得了自由,在那之后,先后经由列宁和托洛茨基的领导,苏联人民走向了崭新而美好的未来,她的工业和军事实力足以让全世界羡慕,不论是美洲(苏联在那里拥有许多军事基地)还是非洲(苏联在那里拥有许多附庸国)。只有远东的红色中国和红色日本可以同苏联展开竞争。不列颠无疑是不值得苏联担心的,因为她不过是个与世隔绝、只关心国内事物的落后小国。
随着离家越来越近,安妮本已饱受压迫的小腹里越发愁肠百结。她就要见到妈妈了!妈妈会是什么样子?会和她长得很像吗?会好相处吗?会和她兴趣相投吗?这样的问题萦绕在安妮的脑海,她抬头看向坐在对面的科赞勋爵。“别担心,安妮,”罗伯特看出了安妮的心情,说道,“没事的。”

勋爵的宅邸让人印象深刻,门口摞在一起的巨大石阶就比俄罗斯最大的乡间别墅都要大,房子四周环绕有繁茂的草地,一条小河在河床里流淌。汽车停住后,一大群仆人全都穿着整洁的制服,在台阶两侧列队欢迎他们。司机打开车门,安妮和她的继父一同下车,沿一条笔直的路线缓缓走上台阶,在她面前,仆人们纷纷冲她鞠躬或是行屈膝礼。安妮渐渐意识到她如今所属的这个家族在英国的地位十分重要,这一点——连同身上紧紧的束腰还有马上就要见到母亲的忐忑心情——让她的心脏剧烈地跳动,胸膛急速地起伏。

经过一番努力安妮终于爬完石阶同继父一起进入巨大的门廊大厅,(那里有比刚刚还要多两打的仆人在等待着向她介绍自己),然后她被领进一扇侧门,进入房间后门就关上了。

房间里坐着的是克莱尔•科赞夫人。

她的母亲。

安妮对母亲的第一印象是惊讶。母亲的样子和她想象中的并不一样。她母亲穿的裙子不仅轻浮而且尺寸小得难以置信,人穿上就像被硬塞进去一样。母亲的腰围极其纤细,腰部往上是一对不断起伏的巨乳,裙子前面的领子开口很低,显露出又大又深的乳沟。让安妮震惊的不是母亲的腰围——毕竟这里是英格兰——而是她的巨乳。安妮自己身轻体柔还是贫乳,可她面前的这个女人却是个标准十足的丰满美人。这个女人脸上的妆容很浓,(此时安妮却忘了自己也化着浓妆),嘴唇红而丰满,蓝眼睛又大又亮。而安妮自己却是黑眼睛薄嘴唇。为什么母亲看起来和自己那么不一样呢?

但是样貌是一回事,爱是另一回事,一看见多年以来朝思暮想的女儿,母亲眼里立刻流出了豆大的泪珠。安妮迈着小碎步用她最快的速度走到母亲身前,张开双臂抱住母亲。奇怪的是,母亲却没有像她一样给自己一个拥抱,只是把脸贴在安妮的脸上,一再低语道,“宝贝,我的宝贝!我好想你!我想死你了!!”(译注:原文为俄语)

安妮和母亲在房间里一直聊到晚饭时分。然后她们和家庭里的其他成员一起吃晚饭。让安妮高兴的是她有了两个同母异父的妹妹和一个同母异父的弟弟:霍普、查瑞蒂和托马斯(译注:Hope意为希望,作人名译作霍普;Charity意为慈善,作人名译为查瑞蒂。作者Dave很喜欢给这种从小就受到束缚的少女起这样的名字,在《艾莉森成为了金丝雀女士》里也是如此)。霍普和查瑞蒂是典型的英国少女,腰束得极紧,穿着花哨的长裙,聊天的话题总是离不开时尚和女孩子的东西,但是即便如此安妮还是很喜欢她俩,而汤姆(译注:托马斯的昵称)是个壮实的10岁男孩,理想是参军。安妮差一点就要把自己在红军预备军官学校的那段岁月讲给他听了,是科赞勋爵递给她的眼神让她意识到或许这不太合适。

虽然安妮和她的妹妹们之间没有什么共同话题,但是有一个家庭可以融入还是一件很好的事情,安妮开始享受她新生活的一些方面,像是漫步在肯德尔斯顿美丽的庭院,还有在女士客厅里和“保镖”还有霍莉一起玩,它们是家里作为宠物养的两条英国激飞猎犬。你看,找到归属感总是那么美好。

不过肯德尔斯顿的一切并非都那么美好。安妮一到这里就发现那些在圣•洛朗先生的商店订购的衣服已经全部送到了,这意味着生活对安妮变得艰难了一些。开始是新的束腰,比安妮原来那件更紧也更长。为了系好新束腰需要新的方法,安妮终于发现了每个卧室都有的那种像小秋千一样的吊架的真实用途,(一开始在伦敦,她拿那个作健身器材用),如今束腰时女仆会先把她的手腕绑到这个叫束腰杆的吊架上面,然后升起束腰杆把安妮吊到空中,这样可以使她的身体更舒展,束腰也就可以系得更紧。如果只是这样还好,难的是当安妮被放下来的时候。这种新的束腰方法让安妮简直难受得要死,她经常晕倒,(每次刚束完腰后都会),然后女仆会冲她的鼻子喷一种有刺激性气味的喷雾使她苏醒。

让她难受的还有如今她晚上睡觉也要穿束腰了,这是为了保持新束紧的腰围,也可以使白天的束腰更容易一些。安妮没法在腰束得如此之紧的情况下睡好觉,结果就是睡眠不足让她在头一周左右的时间里连走路时都在半睡半醒。
然而更让她担心的是一件新的饰品被添加到了她的着装上,那天是斯塔福郡伯爵来访的前一天。“你必须把你最好的一面展现给斯蒂芬伯爵,”母亲在伯爵来访前一天的晚上对她说,“由于他的到访对我们家族非常重要,有一样你之前没试过的东西明天要戴上。”

“但是为什么啊,克莱尔姨妈?”安妮问道。

“因为他是查瑞蒂的未婚夫,明天他的到访会确定婚礼的日期还有成亲条件。”
安妮有些困惑。“但是他俩怎么会已经订婚了呢,克莱尔姨妈?查瑞蒂比我还小,她才14岁!”

“难道这样就不能订婚了吗,亲爱的?”

“可是在苏联法律允许结婚的最小年龄是16岁而且即便这样也必须得到父母的同意!14岁就要结婚,这,这是…不对的!查瑞蒂还是个孩子!”

母亲的双眼饱含深情地凝视着远方,仿佛陷入了对那段在苏联的美好岁月的怀念之中。“对你来说也许是的亲爱的,但是这里的情况不同。按照法律女孩12岁就能结婚但是只有非常少的人会那样做。更普遍的情况是等到女孩15、16岁发育成女人之后。不过绝大多数订婚都要比这个早得多。斯蒂芬伯爵在查瑞蒂只有7岁的时候就找到了我们。那时我们在花园开派对,查瑞蒂在避暑别墅里玩而伯爵是我们的客人。查瑞蒂主动对伯爵说话还给他展示自己的泰迪熊。她的美丽聪明给伯爵留下了深刻的印象,他问我们等到查瑞蒂年纪足够大了能否迎娶她。我们同意了,只要婚礼的进行不早于查瑞蒂的16岁生日。这就是为什么查瑞蒂要结婚了,就在她生日那天,他们已经订婚3年了。明天是婚礼前查瑞蒂最后一次见到伯爵,到时候伯爵会宣布他希望查瑞蒂在婚礼前达到的条件,因为每个丈夫都对他们的妻子有要求。”

“但是查瑞蒂对这一切怎么想?她想嫁给他吗?”

“她接受了她父亲给她定的亲事,这就够了。我们女人只能接受,而非要求。”

“莫斯科的情况和这里很不一样,妈妈。”

“我知道亲爱的,我知道。”

看到妈妈忧郁的表情,安娜决定换个话题。“你希望我明天的着装加上什么新东西,妈妈?”她问道。

她的母亲笑了。“这个就是,”她说,然后给女儿展示一个小盒子。“这叫做‘口中花’(译注:原文为法语fleur de bouche,意为嘴里的花),在某些场合所有高贵的女士都要戴。”

安妮打开盒子,看见盒子里的丝绸内衬上放着一朵小花,花朵后面连着一个塑料的像灯泡一样的东西。她困惑地抬头望向母亲,“我要怎么戴这东西呢?”她问道。

“当然是戴在嘴里了,你应该从它的名字里就能看出来了。珀金斯,把口中花给安妮小姐戴上。这个颜色和她的裙子很配,一定非常漂亮。”

在安妮反应过来之前,女仆就拿起口中花把后面的塑料球塞进了安妮嘴里。接着珀金斯在花心一按,(安妮现在发现花是丝绸和塑料做的),嘴里的球体立刻膨胀填满了安妮的口腔,以至于她既不能发出任何声音,也不能把口中花吐出来。现在,除了束腰和沉重的华服的拘束,她还不能说话了!

“多漂亮啊!”安妮的母亲大声说。“珀金斯,把镜子拿来,让安妮看看口中花把她的眼睛还有裙子衬得多漂亮!”珀金斯尽职地照做,安妮看向镜子。镜中的画面有些陌生。看不出任何拘束的痕迹,只有一朵大大的花出现在她的嘴巴本该出现的位置。安妮无助而困惑地望向她的母亲。

“很早以前父母就教育女儿不得做长舌妇,女人应该展示自己的外表而非声音,于是从中世纪起人们就发明了各种各样的口塞。然而,那些口塞看起来全都不够美丽所以也就没有哪一种流行开来。直到18世纪法国发明了口中花。第一朵口中花后面的塞子是木头做的,很难塞进嘴里,(塞进去了也很难取出来),不过当然了,如今现代科技已经为女人改进了口中花的制作工艺。玛丽•安托瓦内特皇后是第一个推广者,她非常信赖口中花,据说她拥有超过1000朵口中花。她说口中花帮助她减肥,因为吃饭的时候口中花很难取下,所以她就干脆不取出来。的确,即便如今人们私下里也会把口中花叫做‘玛丽嘴里的东西’。”
安妮对于这堂短短的历史课无话可说。你看,嘴里戴着口中花,她也说不出任何话来。

从很多方面来说斯塔福郡伯爵的来访对于安妮都是一场折磨。当天开始她很早就被叫醒,女仆给她绑上了一件新的束腰,比她之前那件要紧半英寸,然后是让安妮觉得轻浮到没边的新裙子,裙子下还穿了不少于15条衬裙。新裙子是用最高级的丝绸做的,明亮的粉红色裙子上印有朵朵雏菊,她当天的口中花也是一朵大大的雏菊。

新裙子的羊腿袖比之前的要大,里面也有金属丝编织的笼子用来支撑庞大的外形,袖子里剩余的空间都被衬垫填满了,这使得安妮的上臂没法活动,只能像瓷娃娃一样杵着。她脸上化的妆,还有香肠卷发型都使她更像个瓷娃娃了,而腰间绑上了一条宽大的黄色缎带,缎带扎成蝴蝶结的样子,蝴蝶结余下的两段在她身后飘扬交叠足有半米长,这副打扮让安妮的形象完全变成了一个天真的小女孩。雏菊花别到她的头发上和口中花很配,一双鞋跟高得难以置信的高跟鞋,(比她之前穿的还要高1英寸),被绑到了她的脚上,鞋跟是那么地高以至于就算她站起来裙子也不能完全盖住鞋子。然后一条短短的脚链系到了安妮的双脚之间,那脚链看起来就像是由朵朵雏菊连成的,(尽管事实上是用硬质塑料做的),限制了安妮的步伐使她每步只能迈大概10cm。白色的紧身羔皮手套让她的手臂更加美丽,但最让安妮不满的是裙子前面的领子开口太低了,过分地显露出她的双乳,在安妮看来十分地不得体,而且事实上那看起来深到不真实的乳沟是通过垫高造成的,这幅画面同天真的儿童妆容一起形成了鲜明的对比。而且更糟糕的是,她的脖子上戴上了一个宽大的皮革项圈,(也是黄色的,为了和她腰间的黄色缎带相配),而连在上面的绳子另一头拿在珀金斯的手里。就这样他们把她从一位自信坚定的年轻女性彻底变成了一个养尊处优的玩物,唯一能让安妮好受一点的是当她遇见她的两个妹妹时,她发现霍普和她打扮得完全一样,而查瑞蒂可笑的裙子是象征处女的纯白色的,比她的那件更糟。

史蒂芬伯爵比安妮预想的还要老,大概在35岁到40岁之间,安妮庆幸是她的妹妹而不是她要嫁给这样一个男的。她还记得她在那次少先队定向越野周末比赛上同迪玛•科斯托夫初试云雨情带给她的快感。她无法想象和这样一个又老又软的男的躺在一起做爱会有多无趣,尽管她一再告诉自己,至少她的妹妹没有别的性经历可供比较,所以她不会知道自己错过了什么。

派对在花园里举行,当天的天气很好。斯蒂芬伯爵先发表了一番演讲,表达他对于能和英格兰最高贵的贵族世家结合感到多么的荣幸,科赞勋爵也反过来恭维了他一番。接着伯爵展示了他给查瑞蒂的订婚戒指还有装着“传统订婚礼物”的盒子,查瑞蒂作为旁观者接受了这两样东西,(口中花使她不能有任何进一步的表示),过度束紧的束腰上面查瑞蒂的胸膛不住起伏,艰难忍受的表情一直浮现在她的脸上。然后斯蒂芬伯爵列出了他的要求,所谓“一系列常规比例的丰体,让新娘能提前熟悉新郎的订婚礼物,还有相应附加的珠宝,所有准确的尺寸和精确的细节都在这份文件里列出来了,我现在把它交给我深爱的查瑞蒂的父亲。”终于,婚礼的日期被确定在1968年的9月3日,查瑞蒂的16岁生日。婚礼日期的宣布让准新娘眼里豆大的泪珠如决堤般滚落,这一反应让聚会上的人们纷纷发出一片片“哦”和“啊”的感叹,人们清楚地看到,当听到婚礼将在生日举办时查瑞蒂有多么的激动。

然而对安妮来说最糟糕的时刻要到斯塔福郡伯爵发表完演说几个小时之后才到来,那时伯爵牵着安妮项圈上的绳子,请求安妮的监护人能允许他带着安妮在花园里小小地散一会儿步。斯蒂芬伯爵是在下午一开始被介绍给安妮的。那时安妮向伯爵行屈膝礼,伯爵描述安妮的美貌是那样迷人,仅仅在查瑞蒂之下,但是现在喝了不少酒之后伯爵变成和那时非常不一样的一个人。他牵着安妮进了避暑别墅,要安妮坐下然后把他的双手环绕在安妮的纤腰周围。“安妮,”他说,发音有些含混不清,“你真是个漂亮的小妖精,没错真他娘地漂亮。真他妈遗憾,我这么多年都没见过你就见查瑞蒂了,要不今天我搞上的就是你了。不过,美中不足是你的腰没她的细,要是能再小个几英寸,噢天啊,那骑到你身上该有多美。哎,我能从侬眼睛里看出侬也是这么想的但是这不可能了,因为人们都看见了。哎,你个小骚货本来该是我的俄罗斯套娃的,(真想知道你里面是不是还藏着个小的,哈?),一整天你都在看我,(别不承认小姑娘!),不过,你想要的我还是能给你的!”说到这他一下把口中花放气拔出来,然后把嘴贴到安妮的嘴唇上,舌头在安妮嘴里予取予求,接着在安妮发出任何声音之前又把口中花重新塞进安妮嘴里充上气。“这次就这样了安妮小骚货,但是别着急,等着吧我们来日方长。现在,我们得在别人起疑心之前回去。”

事情就是这样。狂怒和憎恨从安妮心底升起,可是她无力反抗,她无助到想喊都喊不出声来。事后她想把这件事情告诉母亲或是同母异父的妹妹,可是接着她就意识到除了给家族带来麻烦以外这样做什么用也没有。那天晚上躺在床上的安妮哭了,直到最后她自我安慰地想至少她永远也不用嫁给这个讨厌的斯塔福郡伯爵。

斯蒂芬伯爵走后安妮的生活又恢复到了原来虽然拘束但大体上还算快乐的样子,除了伯爵走后的第一天查瑞蒂就被急匆匆地送去“开始尽她对未婚夫的义务”。安妮的确曾短暂地同霍普聊起查瑞蒂即将到来的婚姻,但她的同母异父妹妹只是回答说能够这么早就找到人嫁出去对查瑞蒂是一种幸运,霍普说她到现在还没找到,连打听她的人都没有,她非常害怕自己最后的结局是变成没人要的老姑娘,虽然爸爸说她会被送到女子精修学校上一年学,到时候就一定能找到如意郎君了,她希望如此,但还是害怕万一。意识到在这件事情上再聊下去毫无意义,安妮换了话题,从此以后也再没提起过这事。

好消息是口中花并没成为她常规着装的一部分,只在礼拜天去教区教堂礼拜的时候要戴。安妮尤其不喜欢口中花这件进入她生活的新饰品,因为那种戴上后就失去表达自己思想的能力的感觉让她非常不适。

伯爵来访大约一个月以后的一天,安妮听说她的继父叫她去书房。安妮好奇到底是什么事值得叫她去书房,自从她到肯德尔斯顿之后和罗伯特勋爵就很少交流了,在英格兰男性和女性的生活之间分得很开。然而在她进到书房后,勋爵竟然冲她笑了还要她坐下。

“话说你对英国的生活适应得怎么样,安妮?”罗伯特问道。

“挺好的,先生。和妈妈还有弟弟妹妹们在一起的感觉很好,而且肯德尔斯顿的风景也非常美丽。”

“没错,而且你也给我们留下了很好的印象。斯塔福郡伯爵、肯尼斯利神父还有温菲尔德庄园的罗杰爵士都对我说他们对你印象非常好。你已经很成功地适应了英国的生活,我为你骄傲,安妮,在你来之前我们曾经非常担心这一点。”

“谢谢您,先生。我尽了我的最大努力。”

“没错你确实尽力了,安妮,但是,在生活里有些事情并不是通过简单的尝试就能实现的,它们必须经过学习,我找你来就是要和你谈谈这个的。安妮,你才16岁,你需要去接受教育,这样你才能找到般配的姻缘。到目前为止关于如何做一个淑女你已经学习了很多,但是你的人生注定是,像你的母亲还有妹妹一样,做一位金丝雀女士,而这可和普通的淑女有很大的不同。因此我已经决定送你去加娜小姐在诺丁汉市的学校。你会在那里上学直到结婚为止,我祝愿你一路顺风。还有什么问题吗,安妮?”

“您说到我的婚姻。这是否意味着您已经为我找好丈夫了?”

“不,不,这件事必须由你自己来完成。但是,加娜小姐会为你在方方面面都准备好,在接受完她的辅导之后你一定能找到如意郎君的,我确定。”

“但是要是我…不想结婚呢,先生?”

“安妮,在俄罗斯这或许可以,我不知道,但是在这儿女孩子必须结婚。”

“那我什么时候结婚呢?”

“正像我刚刚说的,我不知道,但是我们希望你在两年内结婚。”
两年!结婚!安妮难以相信她未来的生活已经就这么确定了。“呜…我什么时候去上学,先生?”

“你明天就走,坐汽车去诺丁汉,安妮。”

第五章

加娜小姐的金丝雀女士精修学校坐落在离诺丁汉市中心两英里远的阿滕伯勒区,砖砌的校舍整洁漂亮。校园并不大,安妮是第八个到校的新生,还有两间新生宿舍空着,接下来的一周又有两个女生到校住了进去。学校的招生规模很小,但加娜小姐更看重的是教学质量。加娜小姐的学校是王国培养金丝雀女士的顶尖学府之一,即便学费堪称天文数字,每年的招生指标还是会提前多年预订一空。科赞勋爵不得不动用了一些关系才把安妮送进去,但他知道这是值得的。从加娜的学校出来的学生在婚姻市场上都有很好的归宿,而这正是安妮所需要的,因为安妮要是不能去上所有学校里最好的那所,那以她受人诟病的俄罗斯背景还有可疑的出身,就算带着五百万镑的嫁妆,也找不到一个正派的丈夫。

“那么科赞小姐,欢迎你来到加娜金丝雀女士精修学校。我相信你刚刚经历了一段愉快的旅途?”

安妮上下打量着这位校长,她体格纤瘦,有着英国女士标准的束腰束成的腰围。然而她的眼睛显露出一缕善意的目光,背叛了这幅严苛的妆容,让安妮有理由感到希望。“哦,是的,女士,很愉快,”安妮撒谎说,(实际上束腰和靴子让她难受了一整路)。

“回答正确,姑娘,无论这个回答是否诚实。我怀疑有没有哪个女士会真地享受旅行,因为她的服装不允许她那样,但她应该时刻表现得像是自己在享受似的。现在,说正事吧。你知道你为什么被送到这里吗,安妮?”

“为了接受教育,女士。”

“教育的目标是什么?”

“做一个淑女,女士。”

“我想这个回答并不正确。你被送到这里是为了接受教育做一个金丝雀女士,而这两者之间的差别是很大的。你知道它们有什么区别吗,小姐?”

“不知道,女士。”

“好吧,我来解释一下,因为从现在起做一个金丝雀女士就是你人生的首要目标,既然这是如此的重要我们就必须首先告诉你什么是金丝雀女士。这一切始于大概两百年以前的18世纪晚期。那个时期的服装,尤其是女性服装,极尽奢华铺张之能事。那个时期的女士腰围达到了15英寸甚至更小的程度,裙撑向两侧张开达数英尺之远,编一个发型要6小时之久而且还很难解开。在那个时代人们通过服装来展现自己的财富。然而,这种展示财富的方式引发了一个奇怪的潮流。你知道,穿上这样的服装活动会受限,穿着6英尺宽的裙撑很多事情都做不了,那些女士的发型有两英尺高让她们连扭头都很难。女士们开始变得更像是她们衣服的衣架而非一个能正常行使身体机能的人类,老实说不论男人还是女人都很喜欢这一点。女人们喜欢是因为这样可以将那些不用工作的女人同不得不工作的女人区分开来,而男人们喜欢是因为,呃…要我说就是那些无助的女士有一种特别的魅力能够吸引男人。接下来,当时时尚界的领袖汉密尔顿公爵夫人又将事情向前推进了一步。她在出席一次为了庆祝皇后的生日而组织的皇家宴会时穿了一件至少有10英尺宽的裙子,头上的发型足有3英尺高,但最惊人的是她的手臂,她的双臂被包在身后的一条袖子里,手掌对着手掌。不管怎么说,当她进入会场的时候,引起巨大的轰动。两个女仆一边一个陪着她。‘扶我坐下!’她命令说,于是两个女仆就扶她坐下。‘我要喝酒!’她又命令,于是女仆就给她端酒然后喂给她喝。你看,她自己对做任何事情都无能为力,展现出极致的富裕与优雅:她不需要工作而且雇得起佣人为她做任何事情。于是毫不意外地,她开启了一扇疯狂的大门,很快所有优雅的女士都像她一样了,虽然这涉及到了时尚界的方方面面并不是一蹴而就的。这些女士没有一个再用她们的手臂干过活,而且她们全都非常地富裕,久而久之人们就称她们为金丝雀女士了。如今时尚不同了:金丝雀的手臂很少再像当年的公爵夫人那样手掌对手掌放在身后,但原理还是一样的:极致富裕、柔弱和无助。这就是金丝雀女士的标志,从现在起安妮,这也是你的目标。”

“所以我要变得…无助?”

“是的。”

“但是要是我不想这样呢?我是说,无意冒犯,但是这听起来很可怕…”

“安妮,我理解你,许多女孩一开始都觉得很难,尤其是如果她们早先的教育给了她们很多自由的话,就像你一样。所以你必须努力地学习并设法接受这一点。这在一开始并不容易,我很确信,但只要给你时间我相信你或许最终会爱上这种生活的。毕竟,做一个金丝雀女士,是一个人能拥有的最简单的生活,没什么吓人的。安妮,只要你试一试,我有信心让你爱上在学校度过的时光还有你之后的婚姻生活。你看,我们可不像别的教育机构,我们不认为有必要让学生生活在痛苦之中,我们希望你能享受在这里的生活,能感受到自己是一个快乐家庭里的一份子。你必须遵守我们制定的校规,但它并没有多么严厉,它也并不是什么都管,你会感到快乐的在这里。你明白吗,安妮?”

“明白,女士。”

“很好。我刚刚说的这些就是我告诉你的第一件事,我对学校的所有学生都会说。但是,出于你无疑能够理解的原因,你的特殊情况使你有些不同所以你需要和学校里的其他学生不同的课程设置。因此,除了你在体型训练上的基础有一些落后以外,你还需要上一门语音课程来严格地纠正你的发音。你的英语很好,但不包括你的发音,想要作为一名金丝雀女士被人们接受你就必须改正这一点。所以你需要接受辛普森小姐的辅导,但是别担心,你不会孤单,我们还有另一名外国学生,库斯图里卡小姐,来自塞尔维亚王国,她会和你一同上语音课。现在,请你和学校里的其他人好好相处吧,时间到了,你需要去换上合适的衣服,以符合你新的金丝雀女士的角色定位,然后和你的同学们一起共进晚餐,再然后是阅读时间。”

安妮新的卧室虽小但是简单舒适。床上铺着印花床单,地板上铺着厚厚的地毯。唯一让安妮感到不祥的是那束腰用的吊架,但是现在安妮知道得把它当成是一切卧室的标准配置了。珀金斯在房间里等着安妮,安妮仍然是她的女主人,她告诉安妮自己会一直在学校里陪伴着她。这让安妮很高兴,因为珀金斯是个讨人喜欢、有礼貌而且尽职尽责的姑娘。她有条不紊地脱下安妮的衣服然后带她进到浴室,(浴室是独立的单间),在那里她给安妮洗澡然后给主人的身体涂上油。就这样安妮着装前的准备完成了。

学校里的着装一开始和在家着装几乎一样。长筒袜、直筒连衣裙、该死的束腰、好几条衬裙还有手套,这些东西都穿好后女仆把安妮从束腰杆上放下来。然而接下来,事情有了些变化。

第一个改变是珀金斯拿出了一件迷你束腰把它套到了主人的脖子上。女仆拉紧上面的束带直到安妮的呼吸变得短促后才打上结系好。这东西迫使安妮的头不得不始终保持挺直哪怕想低一点点头都不行。镜子里安妮的样子显出皇后一般的高傲与优雅,但这破玩意其实最是烦人不过。

接下来的东西让安妮有些害怕,这东西让她像金丝雀的标准要求的那样无助。珀金斯把安妮的手臂折起来,手掌碰到肩膀,然后从肘到肩套上一个皮革的小袋子系好,这样安妮就只能一直保持这个姿势了。然后,让安妮惊讶的是,珀金斯拿出一对木制的只有小臂和手的假肢,巧妙地连到了袋子的下面,看起来就像是她的真手一样。当然看起来还不够逼真,因为她折起来的上臂实在比正常的大太多了。但是当女仆把一件漂亮的绿色丝绸做的裙子拿出来之后,她才明白羊腿袖的流行背后那真是天才一般的创意,折叠起来的手臂可以完全隐蔽在膨大的丝绸做的羊腿袖里面,这时无论怎么看木制的假肢,(上面也戴着和真手戴的一样的手套),都和真人的手臂一样。此时安妮终于明白为什么她的母亲从来没有拉过她也没有抱过她了。难道母亲穿的裙子不也有硕大的羊腿袖吗?难道罗伯特勋爵不是也称母亲为“金丝雀女士”吗?显然母亲也是这么失去她的手臂的!安妮的心里立刻感到一阵暖暖的安慰,母亲对她并非不亲切,她们之间虽然缺少交流,但并不缺少爱。

安妮脚上穿的新靴子鞋跟更高了,高到她以前从来没有见过这么高的鞋跟。实际上鞋跟是那么的高以至于安妮立起来的脚都和地面垂直了,她只能足尖点地就像她曾经在莫斯科大剧院观看过的芭蕾舞演员一样。“这叫‘足尖’靴小姐,”珀金斯解释说,“所有高贵的女士都穿它。穿上它一开始走路会很困难——您的两个妹妹一开始也总是走不稳——但是别担心,我会扶住您,您不会有事的。现在,为了辅助您迈步,我会在两只鞋子间连上这条链子这样您就只能迈出更小的步子了。再次提醒您,对于像您这样高贵的女士来说这些都是正常着装。”
安妮想起她曾戴过的那条塑料的雏菊脚链,她意识到人们理想中的女士走路一定要迈小步。

她的着装完成了,珀金斯扶她站起来,(因为安妮已经不能自己站起来了)。她的裙子占了半个屋子的空间,站起来勉强能保持平衡,更不要提走了,她折在袖子里的手臂什么事情都做不了,连帮她保持平衡都不行,安妮意识到从现在起她的生活和以前有多么的不同了。她如今在任何事情上都依赖珀金斯,从喂食到走路,从穿衣到洗浴。这种感觉很奇怪,尤其是她从9、10岁起就基本独立生活了,但是她知道,不论奇怪不奇怪,她都必须去适应这种生活。

当晚的晚餐对安妮来说是一段难忘而离奇的经历。光是走到餐厅就花了很长的时间,因为穿着足尖靴走路非常地不稳,安妮每一步都差点摔倒,如果不是有珀金斯扶住她的话。在餐桌前女仆扶她坐下,用餐的都是加纳小姐的金丝雀女士精修学校学生,安妮同其他同学打招呼。她们都穿着和安妮一样的衣服,手臂也是一样的束缚,而且腰肢都极其纤细,事实上在腰围上安妮比其他同学都大得多,好几个女孩的小腰简直是在挑战人体生理的自然规律。安妮左边是位16岁的美丽金发姑娘,她介绍自己叫克莱尔•霍金斯,父亲是曼彻斯特纺织行业的一位商人;安妮右边是她的语音课同学,库斯图里卡小姐,一位看起来十分热情的塞尔维亚姑娘,身姿非常优雅,腰围极其纤细。她们二人也都热情地和安妮打招呼,欢迎她来到学校,但是所有的谈话都在晚饭端上来后就结束了,晚饭是一份很小的烤牛排,女仆用银勺子喂给沉默的女孩子们。安妮看着珀金斯把牛排一块块切得很小然后喂进自己嘴里,这让她想起婴儿也是这么喂的,内心里感到十分羞耻。

虽然晚饭的份量很少,但是由于系紧的束腰所有女孩很快就吃得饱饱的了。然后女仆又喂给女孩子们红酒用来漱口,接下来让安妮失望的是,口中花又被拿出来了。珀金斯给安妮戴上,然后带着她离开餐桌去了一间休息室,在一把直背椅前珀金斯扶安妮坐下。接下来珀金斯拿出一个奇怪的金属架子装到椅子上使得架子正好处于安妮面前。安妮很好奇架子是做什么用的,但是当珀金斯从书架上拿出一本书放到架子上的时候她明白了。“要翻页了就眨两下眼,小姐,”珀金斯介绍说,于是就这样,事实上也没有别的选择,安妮照做了,沉浸在西方艺术史的阅读里,直到一声铃响,女仆收走书本,阅览架也被拆下,然后金丝雀们就该上床睡觉了。

第六章

在加娜小姐的学校里,安妮花了很长时间才适应作为金丝雀女士的生活。当你任何时候在任何事情上都依赖于别人时,你能想象那样的生活是什么样子吗?我肯定不能,在安妮进入这所知名学府之前,她也不能。让安妮难以适应的不仅仅是束腰、高跟鞋和衣服,她在伦敦和肯德尔斯顿已经穿过这些也做了准备了,她很快就理解了为何会有那么多女孩,她们在进入这里之前明明已经接受了完整的预备教育,却还是在一开始难以适应金丝雀的生活。不久她也明白了,为何她的继父要送她来加娜小姐的学校接受教育,因为哪怕生活对她已经很艰难了,但要是没有她在这里接受的教导,一切还会比现在难得多。

她的一天从在床上醒来开始。通常,由于束缚身体的睡衣,尤其是现在每天晚上都必须穿上夜用束腰,安妮老是睡不好,以至于总是在珀金斯进来叫醒她之前就已经醒了。可醒来后安妮什么也做不了,只能躺在床上,因为如今她已经不能自己活动身体了。这主要是因为她的双臂现在已经被关进了身前的一条单筒袖里,(为了防止“晚上乱摸”——什么意思嘛!)这样一来手臂在晚上也和白天一样无用了,不仅如此,她现在睡觉时还必须穿上一双专门的靴子(像白天穿的靴子一样,它迫使安妮的双脚和双腿呈一条直线,但是没有后跟,所以并不能穿着它走路),脸上还要戴着面具,面具的外面是瓷质的,(而且涂上了油彩看起来就像瓷娃娃的脸一样),但是里面却有一层内衬,内衬里会浸满一种芳香的面霜,以保持她脸部的肌肤柔软、光滑和洁白。唯一的问题是,面具只留给她两个针眼一样的小孔来观察外面,所以她能做的只是躺在床上注视着宿舍顶上看不到边际的苍白天花板。

然而,起床之后接下来的事情要比这些还要糟糕得多,在进入学校的头几个月里它真地让安妮感觉非常地糟糕。在床上度过了漫长的夜晚之后,人们需要排空自己的肠胃,于是珀金斯会护送安妮去厕所,当安妮在那里做她该做的事情的时候,珀金斯并不会离开,并且当安妮上完厕所之后,女仆会为她把屁股擦干净。随之而来的羞耻感大得难以忍受,安妮很想抗议这种做法,可是珀金斯在这之前就给她戴上了口中花,(也许正是因为预见到了她照顾的主人会想对这件不应声张的事情发表看法,所以珀金斯才会这么做?)在一生中,安妮从来没有像现在这样觉得自己如此地愚蠢而可悲,如此彻底地依赖于别人。让别人给自己擦屁股的感觉羞耻到了极点,而且更糟的是,这种事一天要发生三次。

在上厕所和洗澡之后,(洗澡时哪怕其他衣服都脱了也得戴着贞操带和单筒袖),安妮穿好衣服然后由女仆护送下楼和其他女孩一起吃早餐。再往后是上课,天天如此,除了周日要去教堂。去教堂时她们要戴着口中花和散步时戴的硕大的包头软帽,帽子带有厚厚的面纱,戴上之后身边的一切都变得难以辨认。教区的教堂离学校只有一二百米远,所有女孩由她们的女仆领着步行过去。这是一段让女孩们紧张不安的旅程,因为她们实际上什么也看不见,双臂被紧紧束缚,细高跟迫使她们只能在半便士硬币那么大的立足点上保持平衡。
在头两个月里安妮的一切学习都以两门课为核心,两门课都和同样的人一起上:辛普森小姐,一位大约30岁有着狭长的眼睛和金色头发的未婚女人,和奥克萨娜•库斯图里卡小姐,一位来自塞尔维亚的学生。

奥克萨娜•库斯图里卡绝对是个奇怪的姑娘,或者至少在安妮眼里是这样。她出生在塞尔维亚王国的一个小村庄,在一户农民家庭里长大。后来,16岁那年她去了首都贝尔格莱德和她姑姑一起住,就是在那里她遇见了一位英国贵族,休•贝尔蒙特,伍斯特(译注:在英格兰西部)伯爵当时刚从剑桥大学拿到自己的学士学位,正由一个随从陪同游历巴尔干半岛。两人在第一次相遇时就相爱了,(或者至少是贝尔蒙特爱上了奥克萨娜;而从另一方面来说,奥克萨娜爱上的是嫁给一个极其富有的绅士从此过上奢华生活的幻想),相遇后仅仅一周之内伯爵就求婚了,然后奥克萨娜接受了。可是,作为一个英国贵族,结婚的事可不像一般人那么简单,伯爵的家族勉强接受了他要娶一个血统卑微来自塞尔维亚的女子为妻的想法,(毕竟他的父亲也是个著名的浪荡子,娶了一个浣衣女为妻),但是库斯图里卡小姐必须在婚礼之前把一切准备妥当,于是就这样她被送到了加娜小姐的学校。

然而和安妮不同的是,她来到这里完全是出于自愿。

“我想你来的时候并不知道自己进的是什么学校,是吗?”有一次安妮在早上的语音课上问她。

“噢不,不是这样的。当我和休吉(译注:休的昵称)相遇,还有他向我求婚的时候,他都给我解释了英国妇女是怎样生活的,他还告诉了我他对我的期望。”

“然后你仍然愿意接受求婚?”

“当然!这话只在咱们两个间说说,所有一切我都知道。在学校我们按照英国的模式上课,像联合王国的妇女一样生活,我记得当我第一次想到这事的时候,噢我太喜欢这样了!我是说,在塞尔维亚我得去工作而且那里的衣服,怎么说呢,就像苏联的衣服一样,平凡而无趣。如今没人能在东方做个贵妇人,但是这里,哦…简直就是天堂!休吉非常爱我,无论我看上了哪条裙子我都能让他给我买,有传言说克里诺林裙马上会重新流行,到时候只要穿得上我就要穿最大的。我超级喜欢束腰束得特别紧——我的目标是13英寸,你知道吗休吉说只要我做到了他会给我买一个纯金的口中花!我爱那被紧紧束缚的感觉,它让我兴奋…我是说下身的感觉。唯一的问题是学校里说的全是些关于贞洁的废话,可我真太想做爱了,没有性生活就像要杀了我!我当然不是处女了,在贝尔格莱德的时候我和休吉整日整夜地做爱,不过还好,婚礼定在明年6月,离现在没多久了。当然还有个问题是他们不许我参加复活节舞会这点太烦人了,穿着我最好的桃红色长舞裙在舞会的地板上一圈圈滑行,我会爱死那感觉的,不过还好,等我和休吉结婚以后我想我们有的是舞会可以参加…”

安妮听人提起复活节舞会好几次了,她想知道舞会为什么这么重要还有为什么不允许奥克萨娜参加舞会。她于是问了她的同学。

“你不知道吗?为什么,因为在复活节舞会上,你会遇到你的未婚夫!两个月以前所有有资格来到这里的单身男士都要提交他们的申请,然后一个月前最好的男士被选出——总有太多的人想来——接着会把舞会指南寄给他们。通过阅读指南——一本全彩印刷、有所有‘待售’女士的照片和信息的小册子——男士们就能确定自己对哪位女士有兴趣,然后在提交的申请上写明想同谁跳舞。至于他们的愿望能不能得到满足要看这位女士的抢手程度决定了,但是我们女士永远不可能知道,学校规定每一位女士的舞伴卡都必须填满而且男士们不准泄露谁是自己的第一选择。总是,等到舞会的时候女士们可以穿上你能想象到的最好的礼服——噢多希望我也能参加啊!——也能用自己的手臂了,(因为这样可以让跳舞容易一点也可以和舞伴有更多的亲密行为),女士们和男士们一边跳舞一边不停地聊天,一切都是那么浪漫愉快!”

“我听着更像是个卖肉市场!”

“哦安妮,你骨子里一点浪漫也没有。你知道吗,休吉早就预订了今年的复活节舞会,要是没遇上我,他就会和在这里遇到的其他女孩一起睡觉了。噢,想想她和莎拉•霍金斯或者阿拉贝拉•德•维里耶一起,太可怕了!”

“但是你说的这些都没解释我们是怎么选夫婿的。”

“好吧,舞会之后,男士们想和哪个女孩结婚就去向她家提亲,一般每个女孩都有三个求婚者,接下来谈判就开始了。小姐们在这场谈判里是没有任何位置的,她们的父亲会同未来的联姻候选人交流然后决定选哪个,但是当决定达成以后,准未婚夫就该开始追求了。这意味着男士会每月来学校一次对女士大献殷勤。当然了,他们的交往是在严密的监督下进行的:人们会要女士时刻都戴着口中花,通常他们只是坐在一起,或者由男士带着女士去花园走一走,能够允许的最亲密的行为也就是在脸颊上轻轻亲一口了,别的就不行了。总之,像这样子过了几个月后,就该订婚了。对于大多数贵族女孩来说订婚仪式会在她们的家里举办,但在这里加娜小姐喜欢放到学校里举办,因为这样可以增长她的名声。订婚时男士会送上订婚必备的礼物,提出他的要求并确定婚礼的日期。所以在英格兰,小姐就是这样找到夫婿的,安妮•科赞,我当然不想经历所有这些冗长的程序,但我真地好想参加舞会…”

安妮和这位热情的塞尔维亚姑娘一起上的两门课分别是语音和举止。语音课的课时很多,每个之前安妮以为自己会读的词都要再学一遍,直到发音正确为止。课程很乏味,但是也很有必要,渐渐地经过几个月的学习,安妮口中的“耶服”(译注:原文为“ye”)变成了“衣服”(“e”),她也学会了把“是”(“t”)读成正确的“似”(“th”),但是无论她还是奥克萨娜仍然很难把“叟套”改成“手套”(译注:原文为meettons和mittons,不知道是什么意思,可能是连指手套mitten的拼写错误),还有“雨闪”也很难改成“雨伞”(译注:oombrellars和umbrellas)。

举止课也是一样的乏味和必要。安妮发现对于金丝雀女士来说,仅仅学会穿着靴子和奢华的礼服保持平衡及走路还远远不够,她还必须学会怎样优雅地走路,不能把丝毫的痛苦表现在脸上,而应用表情让外人觉得在公园里散步是一件,呃…就那么回事吧。随着时间的推移安妮一点点进步:她蹒跚的步态变得像滑行一样,笑容取代了之前脸上痛苦的抽搐,等到这些东西安妮都已经熟练掌握了之后,她开始学习如何用眼睛表达感情,这样即便戴着口中花她也能传达自己的想法。起初,学习的内容还包括对仆人和其他地位比自己低的人应该如何称呼和说话,后来变成了如何同自己的丈夫聊天并奉承他们。

正是在学习这些内容的过程中安妮开始意识到英国贵族的生活并不总是像表面上看到的那样。不了解情况的外人或许会以为,在生活中,金丝雀女士和她们的丈夫一个是对性生活毫无经验的雏儿,而另一个则是内心淫荡的假正经,但是在课堂上安妮却学到了如何奉承丈夫以及如何用荤段子助兴,(奥克萨娜对这些东西的喜爱简直就像鸭子喜欢水一样)。百思不解的安妮向辛普森小姐提问,而辛普森小姐却笑了笑然后要她去找校长问同样的问题。

在加娜小姐的办公室里,安妮坐下然后问校长自己为何要学习这些东西。加娜小姐站起来,笑着说,“今天安妮,我要让你知道英国人生活中的一个大秘密。有些学校从来不会正式地教学生这些东西,而且如果你在那里问了类似今天你问辛普森小姐的问题,你会挨打的,但是我这里有不同的教学风格,无论何时当一个女孩出于自己的思考而问出了你这样的问题时,她的老师就会按照规定把她送来找我。那么现在,你知道这是什么吗?”

校长,(她的手臂并没有被绑着),手里拿着一个木制的小盒子。“不,女士,我不知道。”

“安妮,这个就是泽西岛伯爵给克莱尔•拉塞尔的订婚礼物,克莱尔比你高一级。打开看看。”

“珀金斯!”安妮尖刻地叫道。校长笑了,命令本身还有语气都让她满意。女仆打开盒子,露出里面象牙做的圆柱体,上面雕刻有花纹,长度大约有10厘米——这东西让安妮深吸了口气——它的形状分明和男人的阴茎一样!

“我能看出它让你非常震惊,这就对了,要是我告诉你,一个用象牙照着未婚夫的阴茎做的角先生是在订婚时给未婚妻的标准礼物,你也许会更震惊吧。这根是泽西岛伯爵的,要我说做的很普通。然而,可能最让你震惊的会是,为什么要给未婚妻这样的东西呢。你能猜猜是为什么吗?”

“呃女士,我本来会说因为这样金丝雀就能…练习一下,在结婚前…适应丈夫的…家伙,但是既然女孩在婚前必须保守童贞而且还戴着贞操带,那我就不知道这东西能做什么了。”

“安妮,你的头脑很敏锐。在守贞这件事情上你是对的,重点是用来练习你也说对了。然而,一个女人有三个洞洞而不是一个,神赐予她的丈夫权力可以想用哪个就用哪个。在新婚之夜女人生殖的那个洞洞会第一次被使用,正因如此那个夜晚才是特别的,但是男人还会想用女人其他的洞洞,如果他想用妻子的肛门的话,那肛门就必须提前经过一番训练,否则就会太小以至于插不进丈夫的家伙。所以,在订婚之夜女孩会把这个替代品插进自己的后庭,训练肛门适应丈夫的尺寸。这是第一重目的,但是还有第二重目的就是这样也会给女孩子带来一些快感,对她们来说也是一种预示,让她们提前了解婚后夫妻生活的亲密和愉悦。角先生的存在也可以帮女孩记住订婚之夜的意义。”

“但是这也太…太粗鲁了!”

“或许是这样,但是这就是英格兰,我让你看这个是为了让你知道以后的生活是什么样子。在外面我们是天真、纯洁而忠贞的金丝雀,但在家里我们其实什么都知道,我们也有自己的欲望和需求,而学校的教育会帮你在家里和外面的两个世界都获得成功。拥抱这一切吧安妮,从身体到心灵,这样你才能做好自己。你在这里的快乐时光多着呢。”作者注:有趣的是,在我们的世界里,伍斯特伯爵这一爵位——它属于德贝洛蒙特家族(de Bellomonts)——的传承在1145年就终止了。显然,在安妮的世界里,伯爵家族不知怎样延续了下来,并且家族的姓氏最终降格成了贝尔蒙特(译注:Belmont,可能是指失去了法国姓氏中常见的贵族象征“de”)。

第七章

在被叫到校长办公室一周以后的那个星期天,午饭后,让安妮惊讶的是,珀金斯没有带她去阅览室读书,而是给她戴上外出用的包头软帽和口中花,然后领着她出了学校,外面有一辆汽车正等着她。她试着用学到的方法使眼色询问珀金斯,显然安妮学的不错因为女仆明白了她的眼神,等她们一坐进汽车里珀金斯就解释道:

“在加娜小姐的学校里,学生在主日(译注:礼拜日)拜访社区里的老人家——他们都是受人尊敬的社区成员——是十分平常的事情,一来像你们这样有教养的小姐的陪伴可以给他们一些慰藉,二来作为学生你们也可以学会一些社交经验。今天我们要拜访的是霍普上校,学校指定你陪伴这位老人家。他64岁了,以前是海军军官,因腿伤而退役。他要忍受的不仅是腿伤,大约6年前他的妻子死于流感,所以他还非常地孤独。你的陪伴应该会让他开心一点。”

抵达霍普上校的联排别墅后,一位女仆为她们开门然后带领她们进了客厅,上校在那里等着她们,他蓄着长长的灰色胡须,眼神闪烁,一看就是个天性快活的人,尽管外面的天气很暖和可他还是坐在烧得很旺的火炉边。“你好!你好!想必你就是新指定的从加娜小姐的学校来的女孩咯?你们能来我家真是太好了。你叫什么名字,小姐?”

“她是安妮•科赞小姐,”珀金斯回答道。

“太好了,棒极了!有女孩子愿意来看我、拜访我真地让我很开心。你知道自从小克拉丽莎结婚后我就一直很寂寞,但是她的婚礼非常棒,没错而且她穿着婚纱的样子可爱极了。那么科赞小姐,你想喝点茶吗?”

“她很愿意,上校。”

“好极了!玛莎,请倒上三杯茶。那么现在,请跟我介绍一下你自己吧,科赞小姐。”

“我的主人今年16岁,上校,她是肯德尔斯顿的科赞勋爵的养女。不过她的身世十分有趣,她来到英国前曾在俄罗斯生活了好多年。你知道,她的父亲曾是一名驻莫斯科的外交官。”

“俄罗斯,或者我该叫它苏联?没错,一个很好的国家,非常现代化。我去过很多次,可惜只有列宁格勒,从没去过莫斯科。不过列宁格勒也是个很美丽的城市,埃尔米塔日(译注:Hermitage)博物馆真不一般。噢,茶来了!”

从一开始安妮就喜欢上了霍普上校。他是个友善的男人,有着和蔼的笑容,而且安妮很高兴能遇见一个去过她祖国的人。要是能同他说话就好了!唉当然了,她的口中花阻止了她开口,虽然喝茶时口中花会被取下,可要是她在那时说话会显得很不礼貌。安妮放弃了说话的念头,让珀金斯替她发言。

他们坐下喝茶,霍普上校询问安妮觉得加娜小姐的学校怎么样,霍金斯泛泛地代安妮同上校聊了聊。然后,当上校杯子里的茶喝到一半的时候,他告辞起身离开了房间。随即,珀金斯走近在安妮耳边低语道:“我马上要离开一会儿小姐。接下来无论他做了什么,都不要害怕,那都是他应该做的。”听到这话安妮有些困惑,她想知道珀金斯是什么意思,这时霍普上校回来了,脸上同之前一样洋溢着笑容,珀金斯站起来说:“上校,我真地很抱歉,可是有件急事必须由我去做:科赞小姐的一套新的胸衣正在邮局等着我去取。可否请您原谅我离开一会儿?”

“不要紧,不要紧。我俩可以在这儿聊一会儿列宁格勒和莫斯科,是吧科赞小姐?”

这下子安妮真地摸不着头脑了!她一点也不知道新胸衣的事,(虽然平心而论,这阵子她们已经很少告诉安妮关于她自己的事情了),但是她知道邮局周日是关门的!珀金斯为什么要离开呢?

不管理由是什么,珀金斯都离开了,安妮发现自己一个人同霍普上校在一起了,上校脸上的笑容依旧,正在小口喝茶。然而等到珀金斯一离开,他就换了副更严肃的面容,走到安妮身边。“现在科赞小姐,我相信你的仆人编的借口骗不了你,尤其是因为在这个国家邮局周日不上班,(我似乎记起来在苏联不是这样的),但是别害怕,我们这样做是有理由的,而这个理由是为了你好。你看,事情是这样的,虽然我必须要说你今天的打扮真地很迷人,但是把你带到这里不是仅仅为了让你陪一个老头子的,还是为了对你的教育。现在,我要做一件事情,千万别害怕。你能保证你不会被吓到吗,科赞小姐?”

由于嘴里还戴着口中花,安妮只能点了点头,而且束颈让她连点头的动作也十分轻微。

“好,那么,你以前曾经见过这样东西吗?”说完,上校解开裤子,掏出了他的阳具,就在安妮面前抖了抖。安妮吓了一跳,倒抽了一口气,但是马上想起自己的承诺,点了点头。“很好,那么第一步达到了,要知道有很多女孩并不像你一样知道这些,她们第一眼看到这个的时候心理上很难克服。当然在苏联,情况和这里不一样,我能理解,所以我假定你是在那里…观察过…?”安妮缓缓点了点头。“我知道了。那么现在,你是否介意我取下你的口中花?”安妮摇了摇头,上校笑着摘下了花。“太好了,这一步进行地很顺利。你知道吗,我们在好多女孩第二次来这里的时候都达不到这一步,克拉丽莎花了一个月。那么科赞小姐,我想你一定对这一切感到非常困惑,所以你有什么问题要问吗?”

“那么您的意思是否是说您曾…和女孩子们…做过爱?”

“不是这个意思,首先你们都戴着贞操带,根本不可能做什么的,而且除此以外,那样也是不道德的。不,我所做的只是教会年轻的小姐们怎样用她们的手和嘴愉悦她们未来的丈夫,不过今天你被绑上了,所以用手的事情只能等一等再教了。现在,你是否愿意把我的家伙含进你的嘴里,科赞小姐?”

“我不知道上校,我以前从来没有这样做过…”

“没关系的,这件事情只有等到你愿意的时候才会进行。无论什么时候只要你感觉可以了。我就坐在这里等着,同时我们还能聊聊天。那么,给我讲讲莫斯科的生活还有…”

安妮开始向上校讲述一切关于她在苏联的生活,而上校对此也真地很有兴趣,但是让安妮最不舒服的是,上校就那么坐在那里,而他的阴茎仍然露在外面,所以到最后安妮停止了讲述,说道:“我愿意试一试,上校。”

于是就这样,上校走过来把他的家伙放进了安妮的嘴里。那东西很硬,有一股尝起来咸咸的味道,但是闻起来还行,而且上校很明显是一个特别卫生的男人。“试着吮吸一下,”他说道。安妮照做了,那话儿更硬了。“试试用一用你的舌头,科赞小姐,”霍普上校建议道。就在安妮借此开始找到吹箫的节奏时,响起了一声敲门声。“你的女仆回来了,”上校告诉安妮,然后抽回了他的阴茎,提起裤子再扎紧腰带,把口中花放回安妮的嘴里。“科赞小姐,你做的特别好,开了个好头,真地很好。你应该为自己感到骄傲,克拉丽莎花了一个月才进展到这一步。干得好!”

门上又响起了一声敲门声,上校说道:“进来!”珀金斯走进来。“哦霍普上校,我真地很抱歉先生,但是我完全忘记了,邮局周日关门不是吗?但愿您和我的主人待在一起没有感到无聊?”

“不,怎么会呢,科赞小姐的陪伴真地让我感到非常愉快。但是,我想恐怕现在已经到了你们该走的时候了。”

“是的,是该走了上校,先生,我们现在要走了,但是下周我们还会再来看您的。”

“我会数着日子等着那一天的。一路顺风,科赞小姐。”

安妮行了个屈膝礼然后离开了上校的家,英国贵族在公众形象与私生活间的巨大差异仍然让她感到非常震惊。

第八章

周日拜访霍普上校成了安妮每周的固定行程。第二次去的时候,珀金斯说她住在城里的姐姐病了,问他们可不可以让她去看望一下自己的姐姐,给姐姐“一点基督徒的安慰”?霍普上校自然同意了,这一次安妮和老水手待在一起的时间长了一点,她成功地让上校在自己嘴里射了出来,但是还需要再快一点,也没有把精液咽下去。上校告诉她这种事时候到了自然就会了,的确后来安妮做到了。在做完这些事情之后上校让安妮坐到自己腿上,没再给她戴上口中花而是同她一起聊天,上校用他广阔的人生经历给予了安妮很多指导。很快安妮就开始期待这每周一次的安息日拜访了,因为上校是一个非常快活的老人,就像安妮从未谋面的祖父,而且还是位顶好而有耐心的老师。当他给安妮解释如何提高自己的技术时,总会亲切地捋一捋安妮的头发,后来安妮已经完全掌握了吹箫的要点,于是珀金斯就给她穿不用绑住手臂的裙子,这样她就可以学习手淫的技巧了,学习结束后上校也不会给安妮戴上她那带锁的皮手笼,而是让她坐在自己的腿上,握着她的小手,直到珀金斯拜访完她那永远在生病的姐姐回来敲门时为止。

自从认识了霍普上校之后的几个月里,安妮在学校的生活也开始发生改变。她的语音和举止两门课终于被认定“合格”,和奥克萨娜一起进入了其他女孩正常上课的班级。如今的课程再没有原来那么单调,变得有趣多了,她们一起学习优雅谈吐、古典文学、莎士比亚还有艺术史。加娜小姐解释说,在其他学校女孩子是不会学习这些学术知识的,因为她们在生活中只是一个装饰性的角色,不需要聪明,但是她有着不同的信条。“毕竟,”一天清晨她对她的学生讲道,“当女人的容颜开始老去,许多男人都会对她们心生厌烦;当他们一起去希腊或者意大利游览那些古代遗迹的时候,如果女孩子翻来覆去只会说‘真漂亮’,男人也会感到郁闷的。虽然男人永远不会承认,但是他们也需要一些学识上的刺激,正如他们需要从配偶那里获得性爱和情感上的刺激一样,这就是为什么你们在这里学习这些需要你们知道的艺术、音乐、戏剧、文学、历史和体育知识的原因。永远不要尝试在你的丈夫面前炫耀你的学识,总是要确保他们表现得比你懂的更多,但是你可以用你的学识挑逗他们,让他们更亲近你。”

安妮全心全意地赞同这一观点,她喜欢古代历史和文学,有时当她们去剧院看戏或者某位著名的小提琴家来到学校举行独奏的时候,安妮总感到心跳一阵加速。哪怕在莫斯科,有着世界级的莫斯科大剧院芭蕾舞团,她也从来没有像现在在加娜小姐的学校里这样沉迷于艺术过——那时她总有一些琐碎的事情要操心——可是如今,服装的束缚让她无事可做,反而得以沉浸于艺术之中,每次表演结束回过神来都觉得心灵得到了极大的净化。

在一起上课的过程中安妮对同学们的了解也越来越多,因为在某些课上老师允许她们坐下自由的交谈而不用受到口中花的束缚。慢慢地安妮和一些同学成为了朋友,像是有着栗色头发的塞西莉亚——她是莫布雷男爵的女儿、卡米拉·斯坦利——德比郡伯爵兼首相的女儿、苏珊·阿罗史密斯——达勒姆主教的女儿,还有海瑟·格拉厄姆——蒙特罗斯侯爵的女儿。但最要好的还属克莱尔·霍金斯,她的父亲叫阿尔伯特·霍金斯,是曼彻斯特最大的工厂主,他拥有的工厂和产出陶土的河岸创造的财富比10个伯爵领地加起来都要多。通常像这样不属于贵族人家的女儿是不被允许进入加娜小姐的学校的,但是霍金斯想要自己的女儿嫁给贵族,为此给学校付了一大笔钱,使克莱尔得以特许入学。安妮很快就被克莱尔所吸引,像她一样,克莱尔也是贵族圈子里的外来者,但更重要的原因是,在安妮见过的所有人里克莱尔拥有一颗最温柔也最善良的心,她明亮的蓝眼睛搭配金色的卷发让看见她的人都会心生愉悦。没过几天她俩就成了心心相印的好朋友,同对方分享生活里发生的任何一件小事,每当女孩子们被要求两人一组结伴做什么事情时,安妮总是选择和克莱尔一起。这也是加娜小姐所乐意看到的,因为知识性的课程安妮总是学得很好,而有些科目莎拉(译注:原文如此,应该是指克莱尔)却怎么也学不会,但是克莱尔更擅长举止和礼仪,而安妮在这方面却很不熟练,走路还经常摇摇晃晃,两人一起正好可以互相帮助。

女孩们最喜欢的一门课叫交欢。这时学生们两人一组,由加娜小姐指导她们如何同丈夫亲热,当然练习是在她们的伙伴身上进行的。你或许会以为,当一个女孩子被绑进那么大的裙子里手臂一动也不能动时,任何亲热都是不可能的,但是即便在这种情况下,女孩子还可以接吻,而这就是她们的练习内容。从简单地轻轻吻一下蹭一蹭脸颊到长时间的激情舌吻,加娜小姐会指导女孩们如何实现完美的亲吻艺术。安妮总是很享受同克莱尔的接吻,当接吻变得亲密而深入时,她感到下身的欲望是如此强烈以至于快要让她晕过去了。加娜小姐解释说这种感觉很正常甚至正是理想的状况,她宣布她俩的成绩是全班最好的并让她俩当着全班同学的面又重复了一遍。对于这段经历,两个女孩都不感到厌恶。

在这期间,为了准备复活节这个大日子,安妮身上的服装束缚逐渐变得越来越极端。在开学典礼上加娜小姐曾经规定,参加复活节晚会的女孩腰围小到15英寸就够了,但现在她又认为为束到14英寸并不会超过安妮的极限。于是安妮的腰围每周都要减小一点,到后来她几乎感受不到腰部的知觉了,稍有一点活动就会让她昏过去。当她终于在11月达到14英寸的时候,束腰训练却变得更复杂了,因为加娜小姐又命令她束出一段两英寸长的茎腰,这个要求的主要体现是她必须被吊在束腰杆上让身体伸展一点,好穿上一件特制的紧身胸衣,它里面内置有一个圆形的金属腰带,可以给腰肢塑造出一个优雅而不同寻常的形状。或许是优雅而不同寻常吧,但可悲的是,这种束腰非常痛苦而且会让安妮失去腰部以下的大部分感觉。她向克莱尔倾诉这痛苦,而克莱尔坦诚自己也有几乎同样的感受,加娜小姐命令她的腰围最终要达到13英寸半,而且还要有一段不短于3英寸的茎腰。两个女孩听完都不知道谁的遭遇更惨一点。

安妮的脖颈也和腰肢一样经历了一段痛苦的时光。一天下午加娜小姐给她们上了一堂有关未来时尚发展方向的课,在课上加娜小姐说她已经预见到在未来5年内“脖子会变得越来越长而裙子会越来越向后隆起,可能会使得巴斯尔裙复兴”。遵照这种预测,(安妮不知道加娜小姐从哪里获得了这个预言,可是几年之后,她的预言最终都被证明是正确的),女孩们都开始穿着巴斯尔裙接受训练,而更多的注意力也集中到了她们的脖子上,她们被绑上了比以前更长的束颈以尽可能长地拉伸脖颈,以至于她们只能眼睛盯着天花板,喘着粗气呼吸。

不同的时尚伴随着不同的手臂拘束方式。加娜小姐解释说用膨大的羊腿袖遮掩对折的双臂只是众多拘束手臂的方式中的一种,在过去几年和未来几年里,还有别的方式流行过或将要流行,通常它们会把穿戴者受到的束缚炫耀出来而非隐藏起来。最常见的方式就是伟大的汉密尔顿公爵夫人亲自倡导的,用单手套把双臂约束起来,笔挺地固定在背后,这样的身姿非常优美但也很累人。于是接下来金丝雀们每周有两个下午当她们读书或是听音乐演奏时都要把手臂绑进这样的手套里。一开始安妮痛恨这样,但是慢慢地她觉得比起羊腿袖这是个可喜的改变。带着这样的手套很有趣,但也很恼人,每人的手套都是量身定制的,手掌相对固定在一起,哪怕是手指也一点都不能弯曲,向后张开的手臂尽显主人的高贵。这种束缚是如此彻底,让安妮痛恨之余却又感到兴奋,一种让她不安的兴奋。为什么束缚会让人兴奋,甚至让人渴望呢?一个下午她想得实在太投入以至于向校长问出了这个问题。

“科赞小姐,你提的这个想法非常好,绝大多数学校都忽略了这一点。一个外国的观察家认为金丝雀女士生活在束缚之中并因此而同情她,得出结论说金丝雀是可悲的,生活在她们控制欲旺盛而虐待成性的配偶的折磨之下。他们大错特错了!是的没错,许多男人喜欢拘束女人并因此而兴奋,这是一种自然的冲动,但是更多的女人向往束缚并且寻求束缚。也许最能代表这种英式理想的女人是格蕾丝·阿滕伯勒夫人,有人形容她为‘白天是圣女,晚上是荡妇!’这话的意思当然不是说她在婚姻之外寻欢作乐,如果是那样她就不会得到我们的敬仰了。相反,这句话其实是指她在公共场合与在家里作风截然不同。阿滕伯勒女士很有教养、很智慧也很虔诚。她每天都去教堂,在她家举办的沙龙上讨论的都是最紧迫的政治问题和最新的艺术潮流。数不尽的杰出人士都参加过她的沙龙,从坎特伯雷大主教和卡斯尔雷勋爵到诗人华兹华斯和画家特纳。沙龙的一切都很美、很精致也很有品位。可是,每天晚上8点她都会找借口退场,回到她的房间让女仆为她脱去所有衣物、沐浴,然后把她的腰束到最紧的极限——据说是13英寸。之后她会让女仆把她的腿绑起来,脚趾压到屁股上,嘴里塞上巨大的口塞。接着她命令女仆把她的双臂按照最有难度的方式绑好,那就是优雅却痛苦的‘背祷势’,然后她让女仆抛一枚硬币。如果落下来时头像那一面朝上,她就让女仆把她放到床上,阴部完全露出来便于丈夫采撷,接着女仆会在她的阴部画上两瓣化好妆的嘴唇,好让那里看起来更吸引人。但是如果硬币是背面朝上,她就会让女仆把自己支在床上,屁股朝上,然后用同样的方法装饰她的后庭。接下来她会等待——我想她等不了多久——她的丈夫进来享受他的快乐。女孩们,你能看到她的所作所为是如何完全彻底地囊括了金丝雀女士的理想。在外面,一切都是礼貌而优雅的,可是在私下里,虽然纵情肉欲却从不沉溺于罪恶。阿滕伯勒女士聪明而有教养,诙谐又彬彬有礼,但在私下里她却承受了最大程度的束缚,但是同时,借助时尚,她从来没有完全屈服。说到底,还是她——或者是那枚硬币——决定了她的丈夫可以用哪种方式享乐,也是她决定了自己要被绑成哪种姿势。她的丈夫在其中没有一点发言权,而且甚至从来不曾试图去发言。通过服从,她却实现了掌握。希望你们所有人都能从她身上受到启发学到东西,以格蕾丝·阿滕伯勒为榜样吧,不然你们的生活可能要比她糟糕得多。” ①

下一个介绍给小金丝雀们的正是格蕾丝·阿滕伯勒的背祷势,正如加娜小姐说的那样,这是最难实现的一种姿势,并且实现后也非常不舒服。在背祷势下,正如它的名字所暗示的,一个人的手臂呈祈祷的姿势,只不过是在身体的后面而非前面。但是这只是实现“完美的”背祷势的第一步,(正如加娜小姐所说的那样)。在这之后双臂会被缓缓地拉到一起,(这一步会在几周内分期完成),直到双肘碰在一起为止,然后一只类似单手套的羔皮手套会罩住双臂。这样做的结果是手臂显得难以置信的紧凑和优雅,尤其是穿着巴斯尔裙时,(因为这种姿势正是在巴斯尔裙第一次流行的19世界70年代被设计出来的),但是难度和痛苦也突破天际,只有当这种极限姿势切断了血液循环使整双手臂都失去知觉时这种姿势才真的变得能够忍受了。正因为此,长时间戴背祷手套是不可取的,(在巴斯尔裙流行的年代,金丝雀主要在晚上外出或是公园散步时才会戴上背祷手套,在家里则很少戴),但是即便如此,在她能够做到这种姿势之后,每个周五的晚上安妮都得戴上背祷手套,(克莱尔也一样),这时她被允许和克莱尔一起待在宿舍,两个女孩都非常享受这段时间,因为口中花被摘了下来,她们可以聊天、亲吻、躺在床上蜷缩在一起睡觉。

生活就这样继续着,尽管受到的限制和束缚更多了,但也不是毫无乐趣,直到圣诞假期到来,安妮回到肯德尔斯顿享受欢乐的季节。

在我们的世界里最著名的英式恋物传统是打屁股,但是看起来它并不适用于安妮的世界。这或许是因为在我们的世界里公立学校扮演了一个重要得多的角色;而在安妮的世界里绝大部分有权势的男人都是在家里接受教育或是只在白天去学校走读的。拘束似乎取代了打屁股的位置,尤其在女性那里,但是必须要注意的是有些时候打屁股还会发生在婚礼上,我们听说岳父会给新郎一块打屁股用的板子以使妻子顺从丈夫,尽管这样做的象征意义可能和实际意义一样大。(译者:我不是很理解作者在这里的逻辑。因为打屁股是一种源自学校的公开的羞辱,而公开的羞辱不适合安妮的世界?)

第九章

在英国,圣诞节回家所代表的特殊意义绝对比在苏联大得多。虽然在莫斯科这个时候学校也一样会放假,但是已经没有人真地庆祝圣诞节了,因为人们都不信教了,但是在这儿整个国家都是兴奋的,肯德尔斯顿的门厅被一颗巨大的圣诞树占满了。安妮到家后接受了仆人对她行的鞠躬或屈膝礼,然后再和家人致意。再一次见到母亲、弟弟妹妹甚至哪怕是罗伯特勋爵也让她非常高兴,但是马上她就意识到有什么事情不对劲,因为查瑞蒂不在。她本来是要问的,但是当然了,金丝雀从来不问东问西,尤其是当嘴里带着口中花的时候。于是她就带着疑惑直到在晚饭的时候,罗伯特勋爵开口说,“还有个消息一定会让你高兴,安妮,你的堂妹查瑞蒂会在圣诞前夜回到我们身边。”

辛普森小姐已经教会安妮如何用眼神表达感情了,所以她困惑地看向继父。罗伯特看出了她的疑问,问道,“你知道你的堂妹去哪了吗,安妮?”

安妮摇了摇头。

“哦,抱歉,我以为你知道。查瑞蒂现在正在伦敦南城女性医院进行她的第一次丰体,这是为了按照她未婚夫的要求准备婚礼。她未婚夫提的要求让我们都很吃惊,比常规的要求高了一点,但毕竟男人是一家之主。这就是为什么查瑞蒂的丰体开始的这么早的原因,这样到明年9月一切就都会完美无缺了。”

安妮一点也不知道她的继父在说什么。“丰体”是婚礼的前兆,她已经听好几个人提起过了,但是她完全不知道这个词代表什么意思。所以当天晚上晚饭结束后,趁着她有一个小时可以在子女起居室和霍普坐在一起而且不用戴上口中花的机会,安妮向霍普问出了心中的疑问。

“还没有人告诉过你丰体的事吗?我们去年就在学校学到这个了:每个女孩——或者至少是绝大多数女孩——都必须在她们结婚前接受这个。当然包括几乎所有金丝雀女士。”

“但是这到底是什么啊?”

“呃,它是指我们的乳房和臀部,有时也包括别的部位。你看,我们健全地出生,身体是上帝给我们的礼物,但是当结婚以后对我们的丈夫来说我们的身体应该是特别的,所以我们的未婚夫会说他想要怎么样把我们变成他眼中更漂亮也更特别的样子。我的老师说这体现了至高的爱情,不管它意味着什么吧。因为我们的丈夫是那么地爱我们他们想要我们是完美的,完美的意思就是完美的乳房,丰满圆润而且永不下垂,浑圆的臀部,或许还有丰满的嘴唇或者别的什么。”

“所以你是说他们要改造我们的身体?”

“是的,当然了!我们去到医院然后医生让我们变得更美丽。当一个女孩订婚后她的未婚夫就会把他的详细要求——就是他想要我们的哪个部位有多大——交给未婚妻的父亲,从那之后到婚礼之前未婚妻就可以去医院了。正常情况下会在婚礼前一个月进行丰体,但是爸爸说查瑞蒂要去三次,现在是第一次。”

“为什么要去三次?”

“因为她的未婚夫要求的丰体程度非常巨大。当他把他的详细要求念出来的时候爸爸非常惊讶——他说有些要求对于查瑞蒂来说可能过难了——但是既然人家这样要求了那就只好去完成。我听说等到查瑞蒂的第三次丰体完成后她的乳房会非常大,大到像我们小时候在沙滩上玩的那种球那么大,她的屁股也一样。史蒂芬伯爵还想要对她的嘴唇和鼻子做一些改造,还有别的一些要求。我对查瑞蒂说到最后连我都会认不出来你。实际上当爸爸告诉她这一切的时候她也很心酸,但是她别无选择,我对她说有一个特别巨大的咪咪会很有趣,但是我这么说其实只想鼓励鼓励她:我只想要一对标准的金丝雀乳房,有西瓜那么大就好。”

圣诞前夜,查瑞蒂的确从医院回来了,全家都有一点被吓到了,但即使这样大家也都没说什么。她的乳房明显变大了,正像之前说的那样——不过当然了,有裙子遮着并不会被看到——她的屁股也一样。然而最让人担心的是她那两片丰满而甘美甜润的撅起来的红唇,它们就像被嫁接到查瑞蒂的脸上一样,完全盖住了她甜美的笑容。安妮被吓住了,男人竟然可以对女人做这样的事情,而女人对此却一点发言权也没有,晚饭结束后,安妮的心情更复杂了,那时她正和她的同母异父妹妹一起坐在属于子女的起居室里,听查瑞蒂讲述她的经历。

“我以前从来没有经历过像这样的事情。当然手术很好也很专业,但是即便如此我还是得承认当时我很害怕还流了几滴眼泪。当你进去后有个医生,他会把接下来他要对你做的所有事情都给你解释一遍,然后你就去睡觉了。麻醉剂让我睡了一天,当我醒来后我从来没有这么昏昏沉沉过,感觉大脑很糊涂。然而最打击我的还是遍及全身的疼痛,我的大部分身体都绑着绷带。我就这样绑着绷带在床上躺了几天,然后他们就给我把绷带解开了,我很不想这么说但是解开绷带后我的身体并不美丽,因为有很多手术造成的伤痕。那时我的嘴唇肿得难以置信,它是那么大以至于我真地没法说话,连阖上嘴都不行,不过医生说当我完成亲爱的给我制定的所有丰体计划后,那时我的嘴唇会有一点像这次手术后的样子,我有些担心,但是当然我会很高兴变成他想要的样子的。当我终于站起来后我发现走路非常困难,特别是因为我的肌肉老不使用已经变得虚弱了,但是也有这对新乳房的原因…它们又大又沉,压得我想往前倒下,所以我必须用和以前不同的方式保持平衡和走路。双乳产生的拉力使我后背疼痛,而且我担心以后它们还会变得更大,但是妈妈向我保证我的特制束腰可以帮我解决这个问题。美丽是一种负担,但是为了能愉悦我的未婚夫,这些当然都是值得的…”

女孩们全都点头表示同意,这是她们应该做的,但是安妮透过她同母异父的妹妹眼里看出了另一个故事,一个不同于她肿胀的嘴唇所讲述的故事。

在肯德尔斯顿过圣诞节是一件快乐的事情。他们在烛光下参加了子夜弥撒,圣诞节当天还吃了一顿有火鸡和许多配菜组成的美味大餐。然后是圣诞节礼物,安妮发现展现在自己面前的是崭新而昂贵的长裙、香水还有闪亮的珠宝。她感到是那么地高兴以至于想拥抱在场的每一个人,但是这当然是不可能的,因为不仅她的身体被绑着嘴也说不出话来。天上下起了雪,一切都更美好了,整个圣诞节期间唯一让安妮扫兴的就是节礼日(译注:圣诞节后的第一个工作日)那天斯蒂芬伯爵的到访,在称赞过他未婚妻臃肿的嘴唇和乳房后,(他还调笑说他已经等不及要看一看查瑞蒂身体其他的变化了,羞得他的准新娘红了脸),他转向查瑞蒂的姐姐,称赞安妮现在的样子看起来好多了,他双手环绕住安妮的纤腰,轻轻吻了口安妮的脸颊还冲她眨了眨眼。伯爵让安妮感到恶心,又一次,她感谢上帝是查瑞蒂而不是她要嫁给这个卑鄙小人。

一切美好的事情都会走到终点,几周之后安妮发现她已经坐上了回诺丁汉的汽车,加娜小姐的学校又要开始新一个学期了。虽然安妮很享受圣诞节的时光,但是她的确也很期待再一次见到亲爱的克莱尔,还有拜访霍普上校以及和上校上完课后那亲切的谈天。

在加娜小姐的学校里,春季学期的一切都是以两件事为核心的:其一是准备复活节晚会;其二是让女孩子在晚会上有足够的吸引力觅得佳偶。束腰训练变得比以前困难多了,因为所有容易减小的腰围都已经束完了,现在每束紧1/4英寸都要付出极大的努力。但是到2月底安妮还是按照要求达到了14英寸,然后束腰的注意力被集中到了茎腰上,1个月后安妮也拥有了一段长度满足要求的茎腰。穿着这样的紧身胸衣生活和运动是一场不断的折磨:安妮实际上什么也吃不下而且总是感到气短头晕。不过最让她痛苦的还是她知道这件束腰——或者至少是这个尺寸的束腰——会是她接下来一辈子都要穿着的东西。这一点尤其让她思绪万千,特别是对于一个曾经经常锻炼的女孩子来说,她唯一的安慰是,其他所有的学生都在同一条船上。

学校专门为晚会开设的新的一门课程就是舞蹈。学生们满怀感激,因为这门课上她们可以穿低跟鞋(鞋跟的高度只有微不足道的4英寸!)和不用绑上手臂的裙子(!),所有女孩都接受了一步一步的指导,老师们穿上了男装十分扭捏地扮演学生们未来的追求者。安妮很享受这门课,她有一种天生的优雅和节奏感,很快成为学校里最好的学生。

更困难的是在下午浑身绑着口不能言地同圣·洛朗先生讨论晚会穿什么裙子,圣·洛朗向安妮展示图片,建议哪里该做出修改哪里可以添上别的装饰,安妮则用点头或是摇头做出回应。经过一周的紧张设计,终于选好了裙子,一条很大的裙子,有巨大的裙撑做支撑,(显然这种裙子在舞厅里很流行,但不适合在户外穿),天蓝色的绸缎面料,露肩的设计,裙身上妆点有大大的蝴蝶结和玫瑰花,还有一条又宽又紧的项链和裙子连为一体。

选好裙子后是发型和妆容,外表不管哪里都要精细到最小的细节,等到这些都照顾到之后才是香水。这一步完成后,再确定好三月的一个日期,(这一天在安妮的终极胸衣可以完全合拢之后),安排安妮去一家顶级的摄影工作室照相,为期两天。在那里她们给她穿上各种各样的服装照相,直到最后把安妮裹进她那条华丽的舞会礼服里,摄影机咔咔作响照下了她所有的骄傲。那一刻安妮真地感觉自己是一个真正的淑女,生为女人她为自己的柔美骄傲。当天晚上躺在床上回想,她意识到如果这是在一年前她的反应肯定大不相同。

拍摄相片是为了给安妮做征婚小册子,那书印刷地很光滑,里面包含了关于她的每一个细节。当安妮拿到印好的小册子时她有些惊讶,那是一种接近受伤的感觉,好像她的隐私被侵犯了一样。那里面写有她全部的生平,包括儿童时代她在莫斯科的照片和在伦敦由圣·洛朗先生拍摄的她穿着苏联制服的照片——更糟的是——还有她只穿内衣的照片。有一页列出了她身体各个方面的测量值,(穿着束腰的和不穿束腰的),安妮怀疑这样做的目的是为了她将来的“丰体”,(这词让她打了个哆嗦,想起了被改造得面目全非的同母异父妹妹)。接下来是她的证词,简要描述了她的兴趣与情感,以及她想寻找一个什么样的男人。她饶有兴趣地阅读自己的证词,因为里面没有一个字是她自己写的,(可是却署有她的签名)。里面的内容让人恶心——“我想找一个能照顾我在乎我的男人,作为我的监护人他要有高尚的心灵”——但是加娜小姐解释说这是每个女孩的标准写法,用不着太在意。

有了这个小册子,一切都有了,可是这样一来,除了等待与担心,女孩们还能做什么呢?等待那神奇的一夜到来,到时在市政厅辉煌的舞厅里,她会旋转在大理石的地板上,伴随着上千盏烛光的照耀,扶着英格兰最有名望的单身汉的手臂。

还有担心,担心谁——如果有人的话——会选中她,担心那人是否会像斯蒂芬伯爵一样色迷迷,担心自己是否会像查瑞蒂一样接受可怕的丰体,从此再也不是美丽的女性,而变成一个美女的拙劣仿制品、一幅夸张的卡通漫画、一具性感的玩物、一件玩具,而非一个人类…

第十章

这一天终于来到了!安妮很早就被珀金斯叫醒,女仆先给她喂了食然后又给她洗澡,洗澡时间很长,非常舒适。不出所料,这一天什么课也不用上,因为也来不及上课了,所有时间都要花在为晚会做准备上。沐浴之后,第一项准备是穿内衣。由于复活节晚会的裙子非常大而且市政厅里又没有女性洗手间,学校命令所有女孩都必须像婴儿一样穿上尿裤和至少三条橡胶短裤,(最外面的一条一直到安妮的膝盖上面),以确保不会有任何液体或是气体逸出。穿着尿裤不仅让安妮觉得自己就像个小婴儿,更要命的是尿裤和橡胶短裤让她走起路来有些摇摇摆摆,在外人看来屁股会显得比实际大好几号。上午十点左右束腰开始了,到中午安妮的腰围达到了要求的尺寸,呼吸也喘匀了。她只晕倒了两次!接着是衬裙、克里诺林裙的裙撑还有裙子本身。穿上它们花了好几个小时,因为把裙子穿上绑好之后还要手工把上百朵玫瑰花别到裙子上面。这之后是梳头、洒香水和化妆,到6点安妮终于准备好了。然后是晚餐时间,一小份三明治和一杯葡萄酒就完全填饱了安妮的肚子,并且让她在走到门厅的时候感到有些头晕,在那里她同其他女孩一起回合。

门厅里的景象赏心悦目:一群处子之身的美女穿着最精美的礼服。所有女孩看起来都显得高贵典雅,安妮确信到晚会结束时她们每人都能吸引到追求者。只有奥克萨娜不在,她已经找到自己的未婚夫了,但是即便是她也会有一个愉快的晚上的,她的情郎已经到了市区,他会接她去剧院。

接着汽车就到了,她们两人一组(因为一辆车只装得下这么多)乘车离开学校去往市政厅。安妮和克莱尔同乘,汽车一路上轰隆隆地穿过诺丁汉的街道,安妮脸上的喜悦堆成笑容望着好友。到了市政厅她们一下车就遇上了一大群来自下层社会的兴致勃勃的观众,这是因为加娜小姐的学校所举办的复活节晚会在诺丁汉已经成为了一件年度盛事,对于社会的每个阶层都如此,每个人都想看一眼这些女孩,未来几年内即便是《名利场》和《贵族》这样的杂志也会因她们的彩照而增色不少,而且这两家大名鼎鼎的出版社的摄影师和记者也的确正一边和叽叽喳喳的女孩们聊天一边打着闪光灯照相。

然而一旦进到市政厅里,没有了平头老百姓,气氛就变得文雅而尊贵了。舞厅本身就够惊人的了,头顶是巨大的水晶吊灯,墙上排列着精美的油画,屋里是英格兰最高贵的单身汉。他们站在那里,畅饮美酒,赞美刚来的美人,同时在内心掂量哪一个才是自己未来最好的人生伴侣,而同时女孩们也一样随意地用眼光打量他们,心里猜测他们会成为怎样的丈夫。

接着音乐就奏响了!一曲华尔兹!安妮看了看自己的卡片,发现她的第一支舞已经被索福克侯爵预定了。一个男人很快出现,却让安妮大失所望,这男子大约35岁,秃头,脸颊上有颗很大的赘疣,他雀跃着走近,一手拉起安妮右手一手扶着安妮纤腰。或许不够英俊,但他跳舞还是可以的,伴随他旋转在大理石地板上,安妮感到自己短暂的一生中还从来没有哪一刻比现在更有女人味、更特别。

这之后一切就变得模糊不清了:埃克塞特侯爵、莱尔子爵、艾塞克斯伯爵、诺福克郡公爵、蒙太古男爵,还有别的许多人,一切都是模糊的,她得意忘形,像公主一样在舞厅里旋转,王子的臂膀飞快地接住她,她感到容光焕发的自己就像是美丽与优雅的具现,离曾经那个人生理想是大学学成加入红军的苏联姑娘之间已有一千俄里之遥了…

复活节后的那一周糟透了。课程继续,但是没有人再关心学习了,她们就是做不到!相反每个女孩想的都只有每天来两次——早7点一次下午1点一次①——的邮件。谁会提亲?会有人提亲吗?有多少?什么时候,噢,什么时候?慢慢地,过了大约一周,提亲的信件开始一封封寄来。所有信件都有相同的格式:

亲爱的甲小姐:

贵胄乙某提议在神圣的教堂的见证下同你永结同心。请收下这束由头发编成的相思锁作为我对你永远不变的爱的信物,并认真考虑我的提议。

考虑提议的人根本不是女孩。她们能收到这封简单的提议只是出于礼貌,男方寄给女孩父亲的那份才真正作数,女孩手里的只是那一份的副本,但是即便如此,能看到男方的名字出现在纸上还有梦里也是美妙的。

安妮一共收到了4份提亲,其中一份来自那个秃头的索福克侯爵,她衷心希望科赞勋爵会拒绝他。加娜小姐对安妮收到的提亲数目非常骄傲,这是学校第三高的,加娜小姐曾担心安妮的外国出身会带来很多问题,而现在她放下心来,因为这个数目完全对得起她对安妮卓越的教导。然而安妮并不在意这些,只要她未来的丈夫善良、关心她并且一点也不要像变态的斯塔福郡伯爵那样就好,安妮又想起她和同母异父的妹妹坐在一起,看到查瑞蒂就那样被变成一个嘴唇肿胀胸大如气球的怪胎。安妮看向那些名字——诺福克郡公爵、蒙太古男爵、索福克侯爵还有科德诺尔的格雷男爵——除了侯爵,其他人的任何特征她也回忆不起来,而且一个人又怎能仅仅通过在舞厅跳的几圈舞就对一个男人的性格形成什么印象呢?于是安妮只是等待,同时安慰只收到一封求婚信的克莱尔,虽然那一封真地来自一个年轻而受人尊重的伯爵。②

最后终于,那封安妮苦苦等待的信寄来了。信的全部内容如下:

我最亲爱的宝贝安妮:

你接受我的提亲让我欣喜若狂。从我看到你的那一刻起我就爱上了你,舞会上和你的共舞实在神奇。我同你的叔叔谈过了,他已经同意了,所以我们的订婚礼安排在6月12日。我会数着日子等待直到和你重逢的那美好一天!

爱你永不变的,

理查德·金雀花,诺维奇公爵③

(译注:诺维奇公爵即诺福克郡公爵,诺维奇市是诺福克郡郡治)

  • 邮差一天送两次邮件这一非常英式的做法在我们的世界一直持续到最近才以缩减经费的名义被削减成每天一次。这是一种可悲的倒退,因为正是这样独特的习俗定义了我们英国人,我希望在安妮的世界里这样的事情不会发生。
  • 有人推测克莱尔·霍金斯的求婚信不多是因为她父亲的财富是通过制造业而非遗产继承得来的。
  • 在我们的世界里金雀花(译注:Plantagenet,因为意译更有名所以我没有用音译)家族的确拥有诺维奇公爵这一爵位直到1483年蔷薇战争后灭亡。读者或许可以因此假定在安妮的世界里蔷薇战争从未发生,或金雀花家族打败了都铎家族。

第十一章

6月12号那天安妮起的很早。两天以前她回到肯德尔斯顿,和家人打过招呼后就一直忙于试衣服,而同时科赞勋爵则要完成订婚礼最后的准备工作。每个人都很开心,安妮感到自己有时也会被这种欢乐的情绪所感染,差点忘记将要同自己订婚的这个男人并非由自己而是由别人替她选择的,而她对这种做法本来是不认同的。这一点也许最能体现出,在加娜小姐的学校生活了这么久后,安妮的心态已经产生了一些微妙而确切的改变,现在她比她自以为的更加像一个金丝雀女士了。然而,对未来的丈夫的疑虑并没有给她带来过多的困扰,反而是伴随订婚而来的丰体让她害怕,在结束了第三次和第四次也是最后一次去医院进行的丰体手术之后,查瑞蒂现在也会加入到安妮的订婚礼庆祝中来,她现在已经成了安妮对丰体的恐惧的活生生的具现。

在第三次丰体手术后查瑞蒂的胸部已经膨大得很明显了,那对豪乳的尺寸是那么大以至于完全成了查瑞蒂整个身体的重心与焦点,并且(按照安妮同母异父的妹妹所说的)查瑞蒂胸部的正式尺寸是52MMM①。然而更糟心的变化发生在她的脸上,同不到一年前安妮第一次见到的那个女孩相比,如今查瑞蒂的面庞已经几乎完全认不出来了。正如当初约定的那样,她的嘴唇现在肿大得就像是脸上的两个枕头,她甚至没有办法完全闭上嘴,不戴嘴中花她就会一直流口水。甚至当把她的嘴中花摘下时,她也很难说话了,她的口音含糊不清,咬舌音发不出来,查瑞蒂解释说这是因为她的舌头被刻意截短了,现在她的舌头也变得肿胀了,并且穿了一个很大的环。此外,她的鼻子被缩小成只有纽扣那么大,而她的眼睛现在又大又闪亮,就像洋娃娃一样,并且还是明亮的蓝色眼睛,这是因为她的未婚夫要求她时刻都必须带着隐形眼镜。这些加上淡金色的头发一起,将查瑞蒂塑造成一个空洞无脑、不似真实的人类的形象。想到自己的命运很可能也不会有多大不同,安妮不由一阵发抖。

订婚礼那天,甚至连这些想法也从安妮的脑子里消失了,只剩下保持清醒不要晕过去的念头。那天早上的束腰从她刚沐浴结束就开始了,一直持续进行到下午一点。然后是发型和礼服,一条乳白色的长裙,繁琐得离谱,为了穿上它花了好几个小时,因为有一百朵鲜玫瑰必须手工扎到裙子上面。在这个过程中还有人给她化妆、系上靴子,最后直到下午4点,安妮才被带出了她的房间,步下楼梯,走到外面的花园里加入这个以她的名义举办的聚会。之后的事情仿佛一闪而过。她被介绍给诺维奇公爵,(他既不丑陋也不太老),科赞勋爵和公爵先后致辞。接下来是订婚礼本身,一个硕大的钻戒被戴到了安妮木质假手的手指上,然后可怕的丰体要求被交给罗伯特勋爵。最后一个盒子作为礼物被交给安妮,(珀金斯代替安妮接了过来),安妮知道盒子里的东西只有一种可能,一阵思绪穿过她的脑海:把某样东西狠狠塞进自己的…那个部位会是什么感觉?然后音乐响了起来,人们开始聊天,订婚礼仿佛还没开始就已经结束了,安妮·科赞再也不是闺阁小姐了,相反她已经被许给了某个男人,而她的耳朵听到的从那个男人口中说出的话一共还不到100个词呢。

当那个男人嘴里含着酒水正在花园里快活的时候,安妮却要在卧室里进行自己同他的第一次模拟的性行为了。进到卧室后她马上就被脱光衣服,只剩下贞操带和紧身胸衣,然后双手被绑进单手套里,沐浴后女仆把她面朝下放到床上,她的屁股冲着天。接着珀金斯拿出那个盒子,当着女主人的面打开,将橄榄油涂到那个象牙棒上,然后缓慢但是坚定地把它塞进了安妮的后庭里。那种感觉很特别,让安妮感到很饱、很胀,后面紧绷绷的,但是同时也有些舒服,仿佛她的夫君就在身边一样。但是,不管感觉怎样,当天晚上,当安妮侧躺在床上,安定下来准备睡觉,双手绑在身后就像一只失去翅膀的小鸟、腰肢细得几乎要断掉、屁股里满是未婚夫的礼物的时候,她知道她有大把的时间去习惯那东西。

从肯德尔斯顿回到学校后不到一小时,安妮被叫到校长办公室。在珀金斯的帮助下她小步走过走廊进到办公室里,女仆扶她坐下,然后在加娜小姐的眼神示意下离开。办公室的门在安妮身后重重关上,让安妮惊讶的是,加娜小姐摘下了安妮的口中花。

“是我让你来的,安妮,”加娜小姐开口道,“我们要讨论件事情,这件事情我确信最近几周以来一直严重的困扰着你。无疑你现在已经知道,在这个国家里任何涉及到一位金丝雀女士的订婚典礼上,她的未婚夫都要把一份列有男方希望在女方身上实现的丰体愿望要求交给女方的父亲,这是标准流程。在这一点上,你的未婚夫当然同别的男人没有什么不一样,而且事实上那份由你的未婚夫交给你父亲的清单现在就在我的手上。尽管我必须要告诉你,无论你对此有什么想法,这些丰体要求都会在你的身上实现,但是我也的确理解——并且同情——正如我的大多数学生们,她们在手术前往往把自己的担心和害怕藏在心底那样,而且没错,考虑到你家里最近发生的事情,我猜你,安妮,你藏在心底的恐惧一定比绝大多数同学的都要严重。这点我说的对吗?”

“是的女士,”安妮点头道。

“看来我猜对了。那么我是否能问一问,你心中的恐惧,是否至少部分来源于,最近你的表妹查瑞蒂遭受的丰体经历?”

安妮又一次点头了。“是的,女士…”安妮的声音开始颤抖,一滴泪水在她的眼睛中显现。“求您了女士,我不想变成一个像她一样的…怪物…那太可怕了!”

校长和蔼地冲着安妮笑了。“别害怕孩子,你的处境和查瑞蒂的很不一样。你说发生在她身上的事情很糟糕,我深有同感,的确如此。发生在她身上的事情与美丽无关,反倒更接近…呃,我不知道在这一切背后有着怎样卑鄙的想法但是相信我,那的确很卑鄙。但是不要害怕,你的监护人绝对不会为你选择一个会提出那样的要求的丈夫。”

“那他为什么要给自己的女儿选一个那样的混蛋?”

“这的确是个值得讨论的问题安妮,而且我想现在正是回答这个问题唯一合适的时机。但是在我开始以前,让我再次向你保证,你将要经受的丰体绝不会像查瑞蒂那样;没错,我认为给你的丰体要求的确很克制。听完这些你好受一点了吗?”

“是的女士。”

一段短暂的沉默,加娜小姐沉思了一会儿,而安妮也恢复了正常的呼吸,刚刚情绪的突然爆发一度让她喘不上气来。一俟安妮的胸部不再急促起伏,校长开始了讲述。

“安妮,再没有什么能比你和你表妹——或者我应该说是同母异父的妹妹,不过相信我,关于这件事一个字也不会从我嘴里泄露出去——的处境更不一样了。首先,仁慈的上帝赐予了你天生的美丽,而这些对查瑞蒂,唉,从来不曾有过。你非常像你的母亲,她在她的年代是最有名的美女,而查瑞蒂长的,最好听的说法是平凡,不好听的叫法是有些丑陋。我不想让别人听到我的刻薄,但这就是事实,甚至不止,她也没有天生的优雅与健康气色。当然,我这里并不是说你就是完美的:你的面庞简直是美丽的典范但你的身材太男子气了,一个英国的女士应该拥有丰乳和翘臀,而你都没有,但是这一点我们等会儿再说。我们先回到你的妹妹那里。

“所以,你的妹妹生来并不漂亮,而且可叹的是,她早期接受的教育很快显示出她既没有优雅的气质也没有聪明的头脑。她是个笨手笨脚的女孩,什么也不擅长,除了喜欢八卦和傻笑。你的继父希望我这里能接收她入学——实际上他愿意为此支付我很大一笔钱——但是我说‘不行’。你看,我有我的声誉必须维持,而且我知道即使我的教导也不能把一个不配做淑女的女孩变成淑女。然而所有这些都不是使她沦落到今天这步田地的原因;恐怕我想一切还是她自找的。

“查瑞蒂没有来我这里,而是去了伯克翰斯德女子学校(译注:Berkhamstead School for Girls),一座著名但又不是那么著名的在伦敦周围诸郡的学府。她去了哪里,但是还是没有什么进步。然而,就在最后一年,她干了一件极其糟糕的事情。你要知道,伯克翰斯德也有男子学校,每年一次他们会组织一场盛大舞会,男女学生可以一起跳舞:这样做的目的是让他们习惯毕业后的生活。但是,就在这次舞会上查瑞蒂遇上了一个男生并且爱上了他,我想那个男生是一个航运大亨的儿子。不管怎样,也不知怎的——我当然不可能完全了解这些细节,但他们学校的警戒一定是松弛到了极点——查瑞蒂和这位年轻的男士成功地溜到了花园里,发现他们正在那里交媾的不是别人,正是伯克翰斯德的市长先生——至于他又在那里干什么,没有人确切知道,也没有人敢去问他。所以,这之后查瑞蒂的前途就算是毁了。正如你知道的,在这个国家里,想要成为新娘的女孩必须保持处子之身。现在当然了,你自己就亲身经历过——当然这事我也一个字都不会泄露——有一些手段和方法可以重塑处女膜,但是一个人永远没法重塑名誉。查瑞蒂的错不在和那个男孩交媾,而在她蠢到被人抓住交媾。她立刻就被开除了,(而那个男孩只是被罚了一记响亮的鞭挞我想),失去了一切结婚的希望,因为哪怕带着丰厚的嫁妆,也没有哪个受人尊敬的男人愿意考虑同她结婚。噢,你的继父当然努力了,但是还是没有人愿意接手。于是他放弃了,最糟糕的情况已经发生了,但是后来,他却收到了斯塔福郡伯爵的拜访。”

“他来求婚了?”

“没错安妮,但是有条件。斯塔福郡伯爵臭名昭著,没有哪个高尚的父亲会允许自己的女儿接近他的,但是即便如此,作为一个男性,他的处境还没有查瑞蒂那么绝望。可是不管怎样,他给你的继父提供了一根救命稻草,他将完全而公开地同查瑞蒂结婚,但是有一个条件:查瑞蒂必须接受极其变态的丰体改造。当然,科赞勋爵同他争论过,试图说服斯塔福郡伯爵,但是他的努力是徒劳的:不同意,就不结婚。所以最终,他不得不同意了。”

“但是他为什么想要这样的…丰体改造?”

“谁知道男人的脑子里想的是什么呢,安妮,谁知道呢?但是,众所周知,斯塔福郡伯爵是‘丰满的维纳斯之家’的长期顾客,看起来他希望把某种相似的东西给…带回家里。”

“可是‘丰满的维纳斯之家’是什么啊,女士?”

“那是家青楼,安妮,听起来这个平常的词语表示的不过是一家妓院,但是实际上那地方比这糟得多。你得明白,‘丰满的维纳斯之家’里的女孩并不便宜,但是更糟糕的不是这个。实际上,那里的女孩都不是贵族女子,大多出身卑微,但是她们却接受了一种让人想起那些糟糕的淑女学校的教育,然后她们被丰体改造得辨不出原来的样貌。那里的女士们,如果还能叫做女士的话,有着大如沙滩球的乳房,嘴唇大到再没有清晰的话语能从那里说出来。她们的鼻子被缩小到只有纽扣大小,而她们的屁股大到能塞满最大的扶手椅。她们被改造成了对女性气质的拙劣模仿,好给英格兰最没有男子气概的男人享受。许多女孩的牙齿都被拔除了,为的是给嫖客提供更好的吹箫享受,剩下的被摘除的还不止于此,有些连双臂和双腿也被切除了。有些女孩身体只剩下一个人肉树桩,供最变态的男人当成枕头来享用,就像斯塔福郡伯爵那样的男人。那个地方是我们国家的耻辱,它给外国向我们投掷来的指责的火把提供了燃料,他们批评我们的社会是堕落而淫邪的。许多人发起运动号召关掉它,但是当进出那里的主顾之中有皇室、大主教、贵族甚至首相时,呃,想要关掉它的愿望又怎么可能有机会实现呢?特别是它还是一个很大的外汇来源——我想你的俄国同胞就是它最大的客户。”

“但是这太恶心了,变态!”安妮大叫道。“那些可怜的女士怎么活得下去?”

“这点我真不知道,安妮,但是通常她们都活不久。那些还有能力的通常都自杀了,可怜更多的女孩被野蛮摧残到连自杀也做不到了,所幸不久上帝都会带走她们。当然也有一些人,会去享受那一切,但是那些人的心灵一定比她们的顾客还要堕落,如果还能更堕落的话。但是不管怎样,事情就是这样,这就是查瑞蒂成为今天这样的原因。不要责备科赞勋爵,也不要害怕,你的命运和她不同。你有美貌也有好的名声,而且这两者——感谢你未婚夫制定的丰体要求——很快都会变得更好。现在安妮,让我扶你起来,到我这儿来,这台可视屏幕和我的计算器②相连,你过来看看。”

在加娜小姐的帮助下,安妮迈着小碎步走到屏幕边,坐在面前的凳子上。然后校长走到设备边打字输入了一些数据。接着屏幕上出现了一个女性的轮廓,就在安妮面前那轮廓开始旋转起来。“这个体型”,加娜小姐说道,“就是你,安妮。或者至少,是刚进入这所学校时的你。我刚刚输入了你的身体数据,而这就是结果。正如我刚刚说的,并且从这个投影上看得也很清楚,你的身材很男子气,你的乳房很小而你的臀部几乎不存在。现在,让我们把你到这里后发生的变化加上去。”校长又敲进了更多的数据然后按下了“发送”按钮。人形的腰部减小了很多同时乳房和臀部也略微变大了一些。“这是舞会前的你,所有你潜在的求婚者都收到了这些数据。想必你能看出来,你经历的束腰训练产生了很明显的——并且的确令人高兴的——效果。你的腰围变小了很多而且一些脂肪也被推到了你的胸部和臀部。总体而言,这个效果是极好的:你的纤腰和其他部位形成了对比,尽管那些部位其实并没有长多少肉,但是还是显得难以置信的大了,而且实际上,对于过去的金丝雀女士来说,这已经足够了。但是如今,我们有科学的帮助,所以,如果我输入这些由你的未婚夫提供的数据,呃,你就能看到我什么意思了…”

加娜小姐又敲进一串数据然后按下“发送”,于是安妮的确看到了。屏幕上那具身体的乳房仿佛花朵一样向前绽放,而臀部的尺寸也相应膨大。这些变化,加上纤细的腰围,塑造出一个难以置信——而且难以置信地性感的——身影。安妮倒抽口气,加娜小姐笑了。“这真让人惊讶不是吗?”她评论道。“我必须承认安妮,我认为你的继父为你选了个好丈夫,因为诺福克郡公爵的品味很高雅。胸部实际上还要比金丝雀的标准要小一点,但是我个人认为胸部如果过大的话会破坏纤腰的美感,而腰部应该总是注意力的中心,至于臀部,好吧,现在又比一般标准要大一些了,所以看起来你的未婚夫就是那种一般人称‘臀控男’的类型。当然臀部,是不会在公众场合露出来的,只有私下里才会,那么这里就是他的‘保留地’了,我猜一开始那种感觉对你可能会有一点奇怪但是我个人认为这个尺寸很适合你,安妮。当然现在,这个程序并不会显示全部的改造。比如乳房就有不同的形状,有些下垂,有些坚挺,但愿未来几年后我们的科技能把这些复杂的细节也显示在屏幕上,但是现在,你已经看过了大致的轮廓,不是吗?就在今天,我已经给你安排好了在伦敦南城女性医院两个月后的预约,所以到时所有的丰体手术都会在那里完成。在这之前,尽量不要去想这些事情,而是把你的心智集中在学习还有取悦你的未婚夫上,他每月都会来殷勤探望你。现在安妮,你还要发表什么评论或是问什么问题吗?”

安妮当然有一千种问题要问、有一百种评论要说,但是她已经领会到了校长的语气和眼神。“只有一个,女士,”她回答道。

“什么,安妮?”

“请您为我戴上口中花并让珀金斯带我回宿舍。旅途使我非常疲惫。”

“当然可以安妮。再见。”

  • 如果有读者想在我们的世界中找到这样的尺寸的话,我相信Sabrina Sabrok的豪乳比较接近。不过,Sabrina是自愿的。
  • 这两个词在我们的世界可以理解成“显示屏”和“电脑”,尽管它们同安妮的世界里的概念并不完全一样。

第十二章

 安妮的生活又回到了平常繁重而千篇一律的拘束与上课中,但是现在因为她已经订婚了所以情况和以前又不一样了。首先肛门里硕大的象牙阴茎每天都提醒着自己新的身份,但是更重要的是今后每个月她未来的丈夫都会来“殷勤地”探望她。这第一次来得比安妮预料的还要早——有时候在加娜小姐的学校时光也会飞逝如梭——但是安妮肯定会一直记得这次探望直到很久以后的。如同任何特殊活动时一样,她从课堂上请假离开,身上束缚得比平常更紧,穿着奢华的服饰,这一次是一条豪华的森林绿色“散步”长裙,(但穿上它实际根本走不得路)。诺维奇公爵下午1点如约与安妮在会客厅相见,在那儿公爵先亲吻了安妮的脸颊,(害得安妮以最尴尬的方式羞红了脸!),然后扶着她的腰帮她站起来,牵着她参观花园。安妮努力跟上公爵,竭尽全力的运动让她的胸脯以极快的速度起伏着,同时公爵对她讲着婚礼的准备还有他对未来的期望。安妮了解到举办婚礼的不是别的地方而是伦敦的威斯敏斯特大教堂,婚礼之后的招待晚宴和舞会——还有新婚之夜!——将在负有盛名的坎伯兰大酒店举行。不过,当他们走到花园的尽头的时候,那里有把白色长凳,周围环绕着长满花朵的棚架,她的未婚夫侧身附到她的耳旁低语道:

“安妮,我好爱你。”

安妮当然没有回答。大大的口中花卡在嘴里让她没有办法说话。

“你爱我吗?”

她爱他吗?安妮看着自己的未婚夫。他当然是一个可以让女孩爱上他的男人,但是到现在为止她还不爱他。可是,这可以是一个开始。安妮轻轻点头,高高的衣领不允许她做出更大幅度的动作。

“吾爱,你的纤腰让我兴奋,它让我的胯下燃起无法熄灭的火焰,还有喉咙的饥渴。噢我真渴望亲一亲你红宝石般的嘴唇!”

就在这一刻安妮意识到公爵不是个诗人。她感觉到公爵的双手环绕住她的腰肢。

“我想要它更紧更小。我想一直把你勒到昏厥,我的蜂腰天使!”

不,他绝对不是诗人!他还想勒得更紧,唉!

“亲爱的,我的象牙家伙填满你的后庭了吗?它有没有让你梦到以后我们在一起的日子?每当想起正在你身体里陪着你的我的…”

好吧,它的确填满了她,但是至于未来的日子嘛…

“…我就不能自持,但是看这儿我的小鸟,这里有个秘密我要跟你分享,我们爱情的特殊秘密。”

安妮看过去。他从兜里拿出一个小小的银怀表。或者至少看起来像怀表。然而,当他一按开关打开,安妮惊讶地发现里面没有表,却有一个小开关。

“你知道这是什么吗,安妮?”

安妮摇了摇头。

“这是用来提醒你,我想起你,我深深地想念着你,等着和你在一起做只有男人和妻子在一起才能做的事情的东西,”他告诉安妮。接着他打开开关。让安妮震惊的是那深深塞进她身体里的象牙家伙开始震动了,害得安妮产生了一阵阵奇异而愉悦的感觉。她大声叫了出来。

“嘘,吾爱,别叫那么大声!”他斥责道。“可不能让别人知道。每当我想起你时我就会打开它。它会持续10分钟,正好可以让你…体会我的爱恋…”

这还要10分钟!安妮连高领下面的皮肤都感到发热了。这种感觉要持续10分钟,就在她吃饭、学习或者随便做什么事情的时候!这绝对是一种折磨,虽然也不全是糟糕的。

“我的天使,我必须走了,但是记住,我会数着日子的,我会用某种方法每天每夜都和你在一起的!”

他站起来,亲吻了安妮的脸颊然后离开了,留下安妮红着脸、胸脯起伏着坐在长凳上,直到好几分钟后珀金斯才过来接她。

“女孩们,现在你们每个人都订婚了,也都成为了得体的金丝雀女士,我必须要打破沉默把金丝雀伴侣这艰难的一课教给你们了,因为我估计未来你们中90%的人都会有和她们相处的经历,所以我相信,学会用正确的眼光看待她们是非常重要的。”

安妮很好奇加娜小姐的话是什么意思,因为她以前从未听说过金丝雀伴侣的事。

“现在,在我开始以前,我能先统计一下吗?谁的母亲身边有金丝雀伴侣的女孩点一下头。”

安妮看看四周,注意到屋子里绝大多数女孩都点头了。

“正如我所预计的。现在女孩们,如果金丝雀伴侣的事曾经让你们的母亲感到痛苦并且也让准备结婚的你感到痛苦,请再点一下头。”

安妮又一次看去,她的一部分同学停止了点头,但大多数没有。安妮很惊讶,毕竟金丝雀伴侣听起来挺像件好事的,不是什么需要害怕的事情。她渴望听到更多有关于此的知识。

“果然,正如我担心的那样。现在女孩们,我衷心希望今天的这堂课会帮助你们把绝大部分忧虑都放到一边,我也要向两位在外国长大的姑娘解释,”(这时她冲安妮和奥克萨娜点了点头),“究竟什么是金丝雀伴侣以及我们必须怎样解决她们。但是,在开始前,我要先明白无误地声明,金丝雀伴侣并不是一件值得担忧的事情。姑娘们我说清楚了吗?”

全班都点头了。

“好的。那么现在,什么是金丝雀伴侣呢?嗯,对金丝雀伴侣最好的描述——也是正式的说法——是金丝雀女士的朋友。我们都知道,金丝雀女士是享有特权的女士,因此对金丝雀女士们来说同任何与她们不在同一个社会地位的女性交往都是不合适的。但是,这样就给我们提出了一些问题,由于金丝雀女士数量稀少而且彼此隔离,因此有时候,我们会感到孤独,想要找一个姐妹向她倾诉我们的情感。金丝雀伴侣就是这么来的。她们是我们的丈夫或父母专门送去培养到一定程度——但是必须要指出她们的教育标准没有我们这么高——并且和我们享有相同的生活方式的女孩,因此她们能对我们遇到的问题感同身受。但是她们的社会地位要远比我们低,实际上大致介于仆人和女教师之间,并且她们也清楚与我们身份上的不同。所以,你们的身份比她们更高,可以命令她们做事。但是,到你们的仆人那边就不行了,除非仆人拥有来自于你的命令。唯一对金丝雀伴侣能凌驾于你的权威之上的就是你的丈夫。明白了吗?”

所有人都点头。

“好极了。现在到这儿所有事情听起来都很好也没有什么可害怕的,但是当然了,金丝雀伴侣还有另外一面从来——我要重复一遍从来——都不曾在礼貌的场合被谈起过,但是这一面却经常浮现,正是她们角色的这一面让无数的金丝雀女士痛苦万分。现在我要说的就是这一点,我要通过引用这本名为《金丝雀伴侣》的书来告诉你们,这书是由一个叫梅丽莎·洛克哈特的写的,差不多50年前她是萨瑟兰公爵夫人的伴侣。请听好了姑娘们,你们能从这里学到很多。

“‘亲爱的读者,我出生在斯塔福德郡乡下的一个小村庄里,我的父亲只是个卑微的长工,他和他的婆娘在村子里有一间小破屋。我的童年生活是田园牧歌式的,在旷野上嬉戏,帮母亲打杂。我们家真不富裕,食物常常会不够吃,因为我们家里有8个孩子,但是我们生活得很幸福。然而一切都在那一刻改变了,那是一个下午,萨瑟兰公爵带着好几个随从骑马穿过村庄,我们这些村民都站在道路两旁赞叹着这位大人,男的鞠躬女的行屈膝礼。我那时大概14岁的年纪,人们都认为我是村里最漂亮的姑娘,当公爵看到我时,他停了下来,问我叫什么。我告诉了他,自豪于连他这样的大人物都屈尊注意到了我。这之后,他就骑马离开了,我以为事情到此为止了,直到一周后我的父亲告诉我说天大的好运已经降临到我头上,有人提供给我一份在特伦特姆的大房子里干活的机会,而这个人不是别人正是男爵本人,他骑马经过我们村庄时对我的风度和机敏很有好感。

“就这样他们送来一个行李箱供我打包带走属于我的寥寥几件物品,然后我坐在一辆农村马车的后面乘着它去特伦特姆公馆,对未来新生活不确定的想象让我心里满是兴奋。然后,我一到那儿就被介绍给女管家,我被分到主人的餐厅服侍他的晚餐。你也许能想像,这可不是个容易的活儿,在我开始工作之前有许多事情要学,因为我不仅要知道怎么做还要注意我工作时的举止和口音措辞,但是每个人对我都很友善,真地就像我也是个有地位的女士一样尊重我。开始的时候,我承认我也犯过几个小错误,但是公爵从来没有责备过我,反而因为我做的是如此之好以至于仅仅一个月后我就被公开宣布提拔为夫人随身的女仆,我的新职位要服侍的不是别的大人正是公爵夫人本人。

“但是又一次,这个职位需要大量的训练,不仅是行为训练还有仪表训练。夫人要求她所有的女仆腰围都不得超过20英寸,因此我不得不忍受一段时间的束腰训练,还有3英寸的高跟鞋,这也是这个职位的标准要求。不过一等到我掌握了这些,我就开始了我新的角色。

“服侍公爵夫人的工作远比在餐桌旁服侍困难得多,(尽管酬金的数目是之前的5倍),作为一位金丝雀女士她自己几乎什么也不能做,而且不止于此,我和她几乎没有任何的社交互动,(因为习惯上金丝雀女士就不应该和仆人有交流),不像公爵大人经常和我聊天。最重要的是,她看起来对我的出现并不满意,我以为这是由于我缺乏工作经验,所以我努力用我能做到的最好的表现赢得她的欢心。

“每天早晨我唤醒她,为她洗澡并服侍她如厕。为这样一位显赫的夫人擦屁股的感觉很奇怪也并不愉快,但她看起来接受了我的服侍可对我却漠不关心。更糟的事情还在后头,我还要承担给她灌肠的职责和帮她把腰束到一个吓人的14英寸的尺寸,然后把她的双臂折叠捆成难以置信的、看起来就疼的背祷势,这样她的双臂才可以优雅地盘踞在庞大的巴斯尔裙撑上面。我还要一天喂她三顿饭,扶着她坐下和站起来。说句公道话,尽管她身份显赫还对我冷酷无情,但我实际上很可怜公爵夫人,她真地只剩下一个可怜的灵魂了,绝大多数日子里只是无聊地坐在那里,甚至连给自己擦鼻子或是抹眼泪的能力都没有,也没有一个人可以和她说话,除了她的丈夫,可是公爵不是经常去伦敦就是出差再要不就是打猎。然而我那时还不知道,在后面等着我的是什么。

“生活突然发生了变化,大约在我升职后4个月,夫人生病了,医生被叫来。他是个挺柔弱的中年男人,很少注意到我,他诊断夫人患了感冒,建议去意大利的阳光下休养几个月。于是治疗就按照这个来了,接下来的周一夫人由另一名女仆陪同着离开了,我可以轻松地结束我的工作,或者我以为是这样。不久,就在周四,我被叫到公爵的书房,让我惊讶的是医生也在那里,医生解释说,虽然他在照顾公爵夫人的时候很少看我,但我还是俘获了他的心,他已经向公爵询问过了,公爵告诉他我还是单身,因此叫我来问我是否同意与他携手成亲!

“好吧,我还能怎么做?我当然要告诉他们,我的父亲在我的一切事情上都有最终决定权,这是必须的,但是公爵阁下向我保证他已经骑马去问过我的父亲了,我的父亲很高兴,尤其是考虑到医生愿意提供一份总额有两万镑的聘礼给我们家,还有领主大人也慷慨地答应愿意提供一份两倍于此的奖赏。那么,看起来这已经是一桩既成事实了,虽然我对这个医生无感,但我知道看在我的兄弟姐妹的份上我必须答应这桩亲事。可是,我仍然指出,尽管医生的聘礼和公爵的奖赏都十分丰厚,但是我的父母仍然依赖于我寄回家去的工资,我担心结婚后如果我不能工作的话我就没法每月寄钱支援家里了。然而让我惊讶的是,公爵大人说他对此完全理解,他和医生之前已经讨论过此事了,虽然对于一位医生的夫人来说还去工作并不常见,但我的情况是特殊的因此我应该被允许继续在公爵的公馆工作。可是,考虑到我作为一位职业医生的妻子的新的社会身份,继续当女仆已经不合适了,所以他们已经决定让我成为公爵夫人的金丝雀伴侣,这个职位如今的确十分有必要了,因为医生之前诊断认为夫人多病的健康状况的诱因之一就是缺少有教养的聊天机会。但是,为了能胜任这个职位需要我接受一定的培训,医生已经同意把我送到一所培训学校六个月,为此他将把婚礼推迟直到我完成学业。于是就这样我同意我了的亲事,在我未来丈夫的脸颊上给了他轻轻一吻,然后我就收拾行囊,出发去学校了。

“我去的那所学校名叫‘格莱斯小姐的金丝雀伴侣学院’,我在那里的经历远称不上愉快。我花了很多时间去适应身上的服饰,我现在必须穿和公爵夫人差不多的那种衣服了,当然我的要朴素得多。必须承认,我发现穿着芭蕾高跟走路还有绑着双臂活动都很艰难,我恨极了嘴里插着的口中花还有那折磨人的15英寸的束腰紧缚,(我的胸衣必须束紧,但是又不能紧到使我的女主人失色)。不管怎样,我完成了学业然后回到家同我的丈夫在堂区圣堂举行了一场低调的婚礼,参加婚礼的只有我的双亲、公爵大人和神甫。即使现在到了这一步,我得说我仍然对他们这场阴谋的真实本质毫无头绪。

“然而一切都明了了,就在那个晚上,那个本应是一个女人一生中最快乐的晚上。我被带到我的洞房,女仆为我脱下衣服以便我的丈夫能享用我。不到一个小时他进来了,但是让我非常意外的是他看起来既不高兴也没有激情。我试着诱惑他但是毫无效果,而他只是悲伤地坐在床尾。我不明白,想要安慰他,可是接着他竟然嚎啕大哭,然后将一切和盘托出。“我亲爱的妻子,现在我必须把这件事告诉你了,对不起,我很抱歉,但是你被残忍地欺骗了,而我也是这场骗局的一部分。你一看就是个好女孩,我真希望我能像一个丈夫应该做的那样爱上你,但是唉,这是不可能的,我永远也不可能爱上你或者感受到你的美,但是这不是你的错。你看,我真是个可悲的家伙,为了我的性取向我不仅对女人撒谎也欺骗了男人,在我的心里,我已经同管家格里夫斯先生结婚了。被你的美丽和气质俘虏的不是我,梅丽莎,而是公爵,一个正常的男人,但是可惜是一个已婚的男人。当他第一次见到还是个小女孩的你时,你就让他着了迷,正因为此,你的工作,从女仆到夫人的贴身女佣,再到现在的金丝雀伴侣还有同我结婚这一切都是一场阴谋,这样他才能在世俗的眼光面前体面地同你在一起。你的确注定要结婚的,梅丽莎,但是不是合法的婚姻,不是同我结婚而是同他。我真地喜欢你,我也希望能做你的朋友,但是我们之间仅此而已了。现在我恳求你,原谅我,躺下吧,要不了一刻钟你就能听到公爵大人来了,而你的职责就是取悦他,像你曾经以为要同我做的那样取悦他。晚安,原谅我梅丽莎。

“于是就这样,一刻钟内公爵大人进来上了我。之后我作为金丝雀伴侣的生活就开始了,我理解了为什么公爵夫人总是那样冷淡地对待我。她从意大利回来后,每天我们就坐在一起,有时在房子里有时在花园里,被拘束着的时间远多过没有拘束的时间,我们就像两具供公爵玩弄的无声的玩偶。有时公爵会把她放倒享用她,有时是我,更多时候是我俩同时一起,尤其是当他的朋友查尔斯·斯坦利也在的时候。夫人恨死了我,因为我把属于她的东西夺走了,但是我从来不曾想要这些,我也从来不曾想过要伤害她。说真的,我承认有时我挺享受的,但是只是这么一说,做不道德的事情永远不应该感到享受,我每天都在恳求主把这邪恶的想法从我的脑子里驱逐出去…’”

加娜小姐停了下来,眼光扫过整间屋子。“到这里我要停止朗读了,因为与我们有关的都已经讲完了,而剩下的更多是洛克哈特夫人激荡的,但是又有些晦暗的宗教信仰。而接下来我要讲一讲什么才是对我们来说要紧的。首先,男人过了一段时间以后就会对他们的夫人感到厌烦,然后去别的地方找乐子。其次,他们通常会在金丝雀伴侣身上寻找安慰,几乎把她们当做是第二个妻子,而你不得不每天都和金丝雀伴侣生活在一起。第三,很少有金丝雀伴侣是自己选择成为伴侣的。

“对于男人寻找别的情人替代你这件事,你什么也做不了,所以不要尝试去阻止。他们在金丝雀伴侣身上寻求安慰也不是你能改变的事情。但是你可以做一些事情来改善你与这些不幸的——是的,我必须强调这一点,不幸的——人儿之间的关系。在我看来,萨瑟兰公爵夫人在对待梅丽莎·洛克哈特这件事上做的是错误的。她一开始对梅丽莎的回避使得她自己和她的伴侣的生活都成为了一场悲剧。对你们姑娘们,我的建议是,拥抱这些金丝雀伴侣,对待她们要像对待真正的闺蜜好姐妹那样。她们对自己的窘境无能为力,但是你可以利用这一点把她们当做朋友,相信我,朋友是你做一只金丝雀时经常需要的。没错,这样对待她们甚至可以在很多方面改善你的命运。想一想,要是你的丈夫更偏爱他新找的情人,而那情人又向他抱怨你对她不好,你觉得他还会再对你好吗?不,不可能,他会用很多只有丈夫能用的方式折磨你。没错,你的地位是比那些姑娘高,永远不要忘记这一点,但是她们也掌握着力量,而你不要给她们任何理由去使用那力量。

“而且除此以外,事情也不全是消极和勾心斗角的。你们是否注意到过,我一直鼓励你们所有人拥有一个朋友,一个在这所学校里可以有亲昵行为的朋友?没错,这样做是有一个特殊的理由的,因为两个女人之间的亲昵也可以成为一件美妙的事情,因为男人永远不可能比我们女人更理解彼此的身体,而且不仅如此,男人也喜欢观看两个漂亮的女人彼此在一起享受情趣的样子。所以,我的建议是从你们见到你们的金丝雀伴侣的那一刻起就要对她们友善,爱她们。怜悯她一点,还要让她知道谁才是主人,但是也要像一个大姐姐一样,(因为她们总是要比你年轻很多),教育她,教给她怎样取乐和怎样取悦,你给她们的任何礼物,你都会收到一千倍的回报,我保证。现在姑娘们,这就是今天的全部内容,你们可以和你们彼此那个特别的朋友一起回你们的房间休息了,你们的女仆会在那儿给你们解下衣服,你们也许会想要练习一下我今天告诉你们的某些东西。下课!”

于是课程就这样结束了,安妮的眼光飞快扫过克莱尔·霍金斯,冲她眨了眨眼。英国的社会的确与她从表象上以为的那个样子很不一样。但是哦,要是她能有一个像克莱尔一样的金丝雀伴侣的话,那真正的生活就可以快乐的多,没错快乐的多…

第十三章

诺维奇公爵的第二次探望和上一次差不多一模一样,除了这次他提到了更多关于安妮即将到来的丰体的事情,说他是怎样迫不及待地想玩一玩安妮的“那对新甜瓜”,亲一亲她“丰满的双唇”或者“打她气球一样鼓起的屁股”。不过这些话倒还都在安妮的预料之中,因为接下来的一周安妮就该去伦敦进行她备受瞩目的丰体手术了。

然而就在去伦敦前的那个晚上,安妮得到了一个让她惊喜的消息,辛普森小姐通知她加娜小姐安排克莱尔·霍金斯和她一起去做丰体手术,她俩可以一路去伦敦。不仅如此,作为她们刻苦学习和优异表现的奖励,等到了伦敦,手术前的那个晚上她俩被允许在安妮的房间里同床共枕一整夜。虽然两个女孩自从第一次相遇起就特别地亲近,经常躺在她俩其中一个的床上共同度过一个小时那么长的时间,但是她们从来没被允许能依偎在彼此的臂膀里(当然这只是个比喻而非字面意思那样)度过一整夜。当然,戴着贞操带,双臂绑在身后的单手套里,不用说还有全包安眠面具,她们其实没有一点机会做任何罪恶的亲密行为,但是即便这样,对她俩来说也是极好的,她们可以呼吸在彼此少女的气息里,四条穿着靴子的腿交缠在一起,对安妮来说更特别的是当她在早晨七点醒来后,诺维奇公爵也恰好想起了她并唤醒了她后庭里的塞子。

她俩是坐汽车去伦敦的,一路很累人,因为在这趟8个小时的旅途中安妮和克莱尔都穿着非常热又笨重极了的旅行礼服。不仅如此,包头软帽上厚厚的面纱让她们看不清任何汽车驶过的景色,而嘴中大大的黑色口中花让她们也没法说话。所以这根本就是8个小时的黑暗与沉默,但是两个女孩谁也没有多在意这些,因为她们满脑子想的都是接下来会发生什么,而且除此以外不管如何淑女也不该在意这些事情。

她们入住的是著名的坎伯兰大酒店,(安妮以后的婚礼也要在这里举行),在那里她们被大批来自《社会》和其他杂志的记者所包围,记者们着急地想搞清楚现在来到城里的是谁以及在她们身上将发生什么。两个女孩当然什么也没说,(因为她们也说不了),她俩的女仆也一样,记者们只搞到了两个女孩的名字并拍了几张她俩穿着奢华的紫色毛皮衬里的散步套装的照片,对此记者们也只能满意。两个女孩立刻就退场休息了,女仆给她们洗好澡然后只穿上紧身胸衣和单手套,接着就是又一个令少女们享受的亲密夜晚。

安妮认出这里就是她上一次来过的伦敦南城女性医院,(不过当然她没有对任何人提起过她上一次来这里的事),但是这一次事情大不一样了。现在她已经是一位金丝雀了,保密也不是当天的要求,安妮发现她刚一到医院就有首席外科医生跟她打招呼并带着进了首席医生的办公室,医生向她讲述了所有将要在她的身上完成的丰体手术。又一次,计算器显示的画面出现了并向安妮演示着但是之后医生并没有止步于此而是介绍了更多的手术细节。

“小姐,这块屏幕没有显示给我们的,是您新的乳房将要实现的真实形状——我说‘新’是因为它就是新的,而且我担心它可能会很不适合哺育婴儿。现在,请看一看这里的两张图片。第一张显示的是一位天生就拥有36DD的女士的乳房,而第二张的女士则是通过我的丰胸手术才达到这个尺寸的,(她之前的出身比较贫寒)。那么您能看出这两种形状的区别吗,小姐?”

安妮能,但是嘴里塞着口中花,她什么话也说不了只能点头。不过她还是感到很震惊。天生的36DD的乳房实在是,怎么说呢…太天然了。乳房有些下垂就像绝大多数大胸那样。然而经过丰胸手术的胸部却坚挺而圆润地耸立着,圆得就像个足球,看起来非常、非常地假。

“这个胸型,小姐,显然是人工的,而这一点也非常重要。您看,丰体的意义不只是让您的身体对您的丈夫来说更有吸引力和女性气质,而且也是一种展示您的财富与地位的方法。那些生来就被赋予了丰满的胸部却还来这里做手术的女士也并不少见,她们不再增加胸部的尺寸,只是改变形状。您马上就会拥有这样的胸部,它将会是您社会地位的象征。您将来的胸部将会和那里那张图片上的十分相似,除了您的丈夫要求要有一个大大的乳头以外,乳头上将会穿环这样乳头就能永远保持挺起和敏感。对您来说,小姐,我相信效果将会极其显著。”

“一定的,”安妮想。

“现在我们来看其他的丰体要求。理所当然地,您的未婚夫还要求给您的臀部进行可观的扩大,从专业上说这叫臀肌植入。那么,这就要求把这些高弹力的衬垫假体植入您的臀部,这样不仅会强化您身体后部的曲线,而且也会让您的屁股变得更宽。我必须要说,我觉得这样的效果非常显著。”

医生拿出两片胶体状的植入物,安妮意识到它们马上就会被植入她的身体里。这可不是个会让人感到舒服的想法,特别是安妮从来没有想要过一个硕大的臀部,的确,莫斯科的时尚是尽量让臀部越小越好,当姑娘们在试穿一条新的裤子或者裙子时她们常常会问伙伴,“我穿这件会显屁股大吗?①”以后她无论穿什么衣服屁股都会显大了吧。

“接下来,我们还有嘴唇。您的未婚夫只要求给您的嘴唇注入最少量的胶原让它大一点就好,但是在您的嘴部还有别的活儿要做,我们的穿环师会照顾您的舌头。既然我们正好说起这个话题,您的阴蒂也计划要穿环,当然了,作为标准流程您的乳头也会穿上环。”

穿环!虽然安妮小时候就打过耳洞了,但是她从来没想过还要打更多。那可是她的舌头(为什么?)还有阴蒂啊!!!后一个听起来就特别疼,但是也有一些刺激。这些日子她已经了解了更多的英国文化,她猜想这事一定与性行为有关。

“至于其他的部位,永久的长指甲和长睫毛都是标准要求,但是脱毛倒是有一点不常见。您的未婚夫要求您的外生殖器附近和腋下都要做永久脱毛。您在经历这些时一开始可能会有一种轻微的灼烧感,但是别害怕,它会过去的。现在,我们可以开始了吗,小姐?请让您的女仆为您宽衣…”

脱毛,现在听着变恐怖了!但是,对这一切她什么也没说。哪怕这是她自己的身体,她还是什么都没说。事实上,某种意义上说她的身体再也不归她自己所有了。安妮逆来顺受地站着,珀金斯给她脱下衣服,医生将一个长长的针管扎进她的大腿。片刻之后整个世界进入了黑暗…

当安妮醒来后,她感到浑身都疼。她躺在病床上,洁白的病房里唯一的彩色是她身旁的一碗水果和几朵花。一开始她感到虚弱而且昏昏欲睡,所以就只是躺在那里。然后珀金斯扶她起来,她看到了自己乳房和屁股上的绷带。嘴唇和私处也传来刺痛的感觉,她能感到舌头和阴蒂都被刺穿了。

一周以后当绷带被解下来后安妮震惊了。她的乳房和屁股上都是斑驳的伤痕和肿块。护士告诉她不用担心,可以确定这些过一段时间都会消失,手术留给她两个又圆又沉的乳房和一对巨大浑圆的屁股。它们被以一种奇怪而不自然的方式添加到了她的身体上。她的新嘴唇也很怪异。当她坐下时她感觉就像坐到了一个大枕头上,当她开口时她感觉嘴部都像充了气似的。乳头上的乳环使她神魂颠倒。她想摸一摸它们,还有她的阴蒂,那里现在处于永远的唤醒状态了。这种唤醒的状态让她很难入睡,很难做任何事情除了幻想和她的丈夫做爱。安妮觉得自己变得粗俗了,但是又很兴奋。正像她的新生活中的许多事情一样,这种矛盾的状态让她难以招架。

又过了一周之后她被允许出院了。珀金斯给她穿上新的紧身胸衣,(原来那件再也不合适了),还有精致的散步套装,这一次是深灰色的。记者们又一次聚集在了外面,急切地想要拍下未来的诺维奇公爵夫人刚刚丰体完毕的样子。她很不想这样,当她迅速地走出包围坐进汽车的时候,她感到自己的样子性感而诱人。她只希望克莱尔能陪着她,但是克莱尔的丰体手术没有这么多要求所以她已经回到加娜小姐的学校了。安妮想直接回学校,但是让她惊讶的是汽车驶向了一家摄影工作室,她被要求脱光衣服。她照做了,然后她被穿上她那身旧的红军军装。一开始她不明白为什么,然后她想起来这是她未婚夫的怪癖要求。她穿着那身现在对她来说太小了的衣服摆出种种姿势,她的一对乳房从上衣上面炸裂一样露了出来,而她的屁股把裤子的缝线都撑裂了。当她看到照出来的照片时她感到窘迫难堪。那个勇敢的苏联红军女英雄消失了,在同样的位置上出现的是一个体态丰满的放荡女人,一个对当年形象的拙劣模仿。两种截然相反的感觉折磨着安妮:她一面觉得自己粗俗得掉价了,一面又有些喜欢这个样子。

然而回到加娜小姐的学校后,她很快就把对自己新身体的想法放到了脑后,因为正常的生活作息重新开始了。她发现为什么现在她的乳头要穿环了,(这样在衣服里面两个乳环就可以再连到一个相似的环上避免她的新乳房突然从衣服里窜出来!),还有为什么她的舌头上要穿过一个大头钉了,(辛普森小姐解释说当她给男人口交时那东西可以增加男性的快感)。一个周六,结束了教堂的礼拜,安妮正要去探索唇钉的新功能,没想到她却被叫到了校长的办公室。她一进去,加娜小姐就直接说道,“安妮,坐下。我有一件非常严肃的事情要告诉你…”

  • 原文是俄语,Делает моя задница выглядит большой в этом?

第十四章

加娜小姐摘下安妮的口中花然后直直地看着安妮的眼睛。“安妮,我就和你直说了,”她严肃地说。“我们面临一个困难的局面,不,一个悲剧,就在学校里。你和克莱尔·霍金斯小姐很熟,没错吧?”

安妮点了点头以确认她们的确很熟。

“霍金斯小姐的父亲今早开枪自杀了,就在他位于斯托克波特(译注:英国城市,位于大曼彻斯特区)郊外不远的庄园里。”

安妮不由自主地深吸了口气。“这太可怕了!”她大叫,然后才意识到她还没有受到邀请就说话了。不过加娜小姐并没有斥责她。

“这还只是个开始,安妮。霍金斯先生开枪自杀是因为债务,赌博的债务。现已查明他昨天整整24个小时都在巴克斯顿温泉的一张赌桌上度过。他输掉了他所有的财富;克莱尔已经陷入了赤贫。”

“噢不!这…这实在是不堪设想!”

“不堪设想,话是这么说,安妮,但是,唉,对亲爱的克莱尔来说,这都是真的。”

“那她要怎么办呢?”

“我亲爱的安妮,这才是不堪设想的部分。她不能待在这里了,因为她已经没有钱支付学费了,而且她当然也不再有任何结婚的希望了:她的未婚夫一听说这件事就立刻解除了婚约,这也是可以理解的。霍金斯先生不仅身无分文地死去了而且还欠下了一大笔债务。没有人会娶安妮的,因为那样还要继承一部分债务。她唯一的选择是…去打工。”

“但是她不能工作,她是金丝雀女士!”

“她曾是金丝雀女士,安妮。”

“我明白加娜小姐,但是我的意思是,呃…她不能工作因为她不知道怎样做工作,她接受的教育只教会了她怎样做淑女。”

“如果这只是个教育的问题的话安妮,那倒可以解决了,但是事情要比这复杂。克莱尔的腰部已经被束到了一个极端的地步以至于她必须被束紧到那样的尺寸她才能活下去:如今她身体的肌肉已经不能再应付解开束腰的情况了,可一旦系上束腰她就什么工作都干不了。除此以外,她的丰体手术也做完了…”

“对!对!她还是个天生的漂亮姑娘,一定有男人想要她当老婆吧?!”

“想要她或许吧,但不是当老婆,任何男人也不会有这个想法的。你看,正如我指出的,她已经做完丰体了,这让事情更加难办了。丰体就是一个男人的图章,是男人在女士身上的签名。她已经被盖上印章了,被宣称归某人所有了。没有一个男人会碰她的,就像她已经不是个处女了一样!”

“那她还能怎么办?”

“留给她的只有一条路了,安妮,可这绝对是最残忍的一条路。‘丰满的维纳斯之家’已经来询问了。就像你刚刚说的,她天生就是个美人,多的是男人想要她。他们愿意付钱给她父亲还债…作为交换他们会控制她的一生…”

“‘丰满的维纳斯之家’!但是一定…一定还有别的选择的对不对?!”

“没有了,除非一周之内有人答应娶她,可是就像我刚刚说的,这绝对是最不可能的情况。”

“但是这太糟了,太可怕了…她是个那么好的女孩…她不应该被这样对待的…”

大滴的泪珠这时从安妮玩偶一样的脸上滚落。加娜小姐走过来把眼泪擦掉。“安妮,不要再哭了,你必须坚强。克莱尔刚刚才被告知这件事情,她悲痛欲绝。你应该在她身边,安慰她。”

安妮抬头看着校长。“您说的对,我应该立刻就去;请为我戴上口中花。”

克莱尔·霍金斯真地是心烦意乱。她坐在她床边的一张椅子上,眼泪止不住地流,她的女仆每隔几秒就为她轻轻擦一次泪水,这项工作是她被缚的无用的双手所不能做到的。安妮一进宿舍就走到她的朋友身边,把自己的脸贴到克莱尔的脸上。噢她是多么希望自己也能用手搂住克莱尔啊!还好,加娜小姐已经允许她不戴口中花了,于是她在克莱尔耳边低语,“一切都会好起来的,克莱尔,一切都会没事的。”然而,克莱尔并没有在想自己的未来,她心里想的只有她去世的父亲和孤独的母亲。“我主耶稣保佑妈妈,接引爸爸上天堂!”她只是重复着这样的话语,一遍又一遍。安妮吻去了朋友的泪水,克莱尔笑了。哪怕是未婚夫对她的思念还有她后庭里的塞子开始震动也不能打扰这温暖而悲伤的一刻。

安妮准备在这里陪克莱尔一整天,因为很明显这个女孩需要她,她的陪伴对克莱尔很重要,但是不到30分钟珀金斯就进到了屋子里并把她从椅子上拉起来。“小姐,该走了,我来给您戴上口中花。”

“走!我不能走,珀金斯,这里需要我!”

“但是小姐,霍普上校的家里才需要你,到您去拜访他的时间了!”

然而,安妮没有心情在这个特殊的时刻还去取悦那个老水手。“我不能走珀金斯,今天我留在这里。”

“但是小姐,您得走,这都安排好了!”接着女仆就粗暴地把口中花强塞进安妮的嘴里,拽着穿着高跟鞋的主人站了起来。

“呜呜!呜呜!”安妮一边叫着,一边用力地摇头抵抗女仆的牵引。

“你必须去,小姐!”珀金斯尖刻地再次确认说。

“去吧安妮甜心,”克莱尔说,“但是之后赶紧回到我身边。”

于是安妮没有别的选择,悲伤地踩着小碎步离开了。

在霍普上校的家里安妮决定摆出一副勇敢的面容把她的朋友的悲哀都放到脑后去。珀金斯离开了,她的口中花也摘下来了,安妮跪倒开始服侍这个老头子。起初上校极力表扬了安妮的新舌钉的效果,并开始建议她如何才能最大化舌钉的潜力,但是无奈克莱尔的悲惨遭遇不受控制地涌向了安妮的心头,在安妮回过神来之前眼泪就不能自已地流到了老水手的胯部。当上校注意到后,他把安妮推开,抱她在自己的膝头坐下,问她怎么回事。

“没事的,先生,”安妮回答说。

“不小姑娘,肯定有事。我们现在已经彼此认识有一段时间了,我知道你是个出色的学生,世间的悲伤轻易不会妨碍到你的学习。你的泪水都滴到我的裤子上了,这一定是因为有什么可怕的事情发生了。”

于是就这样,甚至在安妮回过神来以前,整个故事已经如流水般讲完了:自杀,赌博,还有“丰满的维纳斯之家”。最后霍普上校的眼神看向远方,仿佛他的思绪也迷失了一样,静静地说道,“我能明白你为何心烦意乱安妮,因为这的确是个可怕的故事,可怕而且残忍。那么,今天就不上课了,因为你也没有心情去听我讲,所以相反,我还要把你送回加娜小姐的学校——因为离你的女仆约定回来的时间还有一整个钟头呢——你的朋友需要你而你在学校才能照顾她。过来姑娘,你还要作为救死扶伤的天使去完成你的责任呢…”

安妮真想伸开双臂紧紧抱住这个老人,如果她能的话!他的灵魂是那么的善良!

这一天剩下的时间连同晚上安妮都和她的朋友待在一起,安慰她,为她在这个黑暗而冷漠的世界里提供一点点慰藉。直到后半夜她俩才挨在一起睡着,但是清晨又一次到来提醒她们想起悲惨的遭遇。克莱尔努力想变得坚强,可怎样假装也变不成真的,当她被叫去加娜小姐的办公室时两个女孩都害怕地发抖,因为这只可能意味着一件事情。

安妮选择在克莱尔不在的时候留在屋子里等待,向上帝祈祷她的朋友能以某种方式幸免于难。时钟缓缓地发出滴答声,对安妮来说过去的每一秒都是在克莱尔堕向深渊的命运上又压了一把。然后,过了大约10分钟左右,珀金斯走进宿舍。“您得去见校长,小姐,”她告诉安妮。安妮疲倦地站起来,允许珀金斯把口中花塞进她的嘴里,然后沿着走廊小步走向办公室。

然而一进到办公室里,她却看见了她不曾预料到的景象。那笑容满面嘴里没有塞任何东西的人正是克莱尔·霍金斯。“安妮!安妮!”她大叫道,“我得救了!”安妮疑惑地看向校长。

“这是真的,你的帮助拯救了她!”加娜小姐宣布说。

她?!但是怎么会?通过祈祷吗?肯定不可能!

“你向霍普上校吐露了克莱尔的悲惨遭遇,然后他来这里见我。他要求看一看克莱尔的照片然后提议同克莱尔立刻结婚,包括克莱尔父亲的全部债务。他说既然他在这个世界上也不剩多少时日了,他希望利用这个机会做一件好事并帮助一个无辜的灵魂。是的没错,安妮,克莱尔得救了!”

欣喜若狂的两个女孩小步走向彼此,脸颊贴在一起,她俩的泪水夺眶而出混合在一起。但是这一次,这泪水是由于喜悦而非悲伤。

“打扰一下两位女士,”校长突然插嘴说道,“但是恐怕并不是所有的消息都这么美好。”两个女孩纷纷从彼此身上分开,转身面向她们的老师。“安妮这次严重失仪:首先是拒绝让她去霍普上校家的命令其次是未能完成她在上校家的学习任务。现在我理解这次的情况极其特殊,但是规矩就是规矩所以恐怕惩罚还是要按规矩来。”

然而,加娜小姐说这两句话的时候眼神中并没有愤怒,而且,反正克莱尔得救了,安妮知道她可以面对这世上的任何惩罚…

第十五章

在加娜小姐的金丝雀女士精修学校,体罚是在地下室执行的,校舍的这片区域之前从来不许安妮观看。在见过校长之后,她就被带回自己的寝室,脱光衣服只剩下贞操带、靴子和紧身胸衣。她的双臂先是从之前的束缚中解脱然后再被重新捆进一只皮革做的单手套里,嘴里塞进一个远比口中花大的口塞,最后在身上围上一件带兜帽的斗篷绑好,这样就再没有谁能看出这位将要接受惩罚的不幸的人儿的身份了,因为体罚在加娜小姐的学校里是一件非常私密而非公开的事情。

珀金斯牵着安妮步下石头台阶,打开门进了地下室。里面热度惊人,原因很快就清楚了,为整个校舍供暖的巨大的锅炉就位于这地下深处,她看到一个浑身被汗水浸透的魁梧的工人正忙着把煤铲进锅炉里。这里除了他和珀金斯,就只有安妮自己了。

女仆让安妮趴到一把木制的长椅上,然后把安妮绑好。一开始安妮不明白这样的用意是什么,她以为会让自己坐到长椅上,结果却是趴下去,她的头快贴到地板了,被绑到一起的双臂竖立在身体上方,仿佛一艘大帆船的桅杆。然而更让她担心的是,她那两瓣丰体后仿佛满月的翘臀被脱光了暴露在空气之中,毫无遮掩地向上撅着。

“体罚是很平常的事情安妮小姐,一个丈夫有权惩罚他的妻子,并且的确有很多丈夫会定期这样做,哪怕他们的妻子并没有犯任何过错,惩罚只是为了提醒妻子如果她们犯错了会有什么后果。您的未婚夫事实上已经暗示了他也有意让您接受一些类似的惩罚,但是我不知道以后对您的惩罚是会基于不良行为还是变成简单的日常惯例。不过,您的未婚夫已经委托布鲁姆斯伯里(译注:伦敦的一个地区)最好的船桨生产商布里格斯定做了一根笞杖,上面还刻有诺福克家族的家徽。但是现在,因为他人在法国不在这里,我们还是会用加娜小姐的学校的正式笞杖,上面有学校的标志。那么既然善良的赛克斯在这里,赛克斯,你愿意代劳吗?”

“马上就来,女士。”

锅炉工走过来从珀金斯手里接过了笞杖。“多少下,女士?”他问道。

“根据加娜小姐的规定,一次行为不端的标准惩罚是臀杖5下,科赞小姐之前犯了两次不良行为,第一次是不听我的话拒绝服从命令去尽拜访社区老年成员的责任,第二次是在接受霍普上校指导时注意力不集中未能完成学习任务。因此,总的惩罚应该是臀杖10下。你可以开始了,赛克斯。”

“没问题,女士。”

啪!

这一下真疼!疼死人了!安妮大声叫了出来,但是口塞吸收了大部分音量,让外人听到的声音并不比呻吟大多少。

啪!

又是一下,只是这次更糟糕,安妮的屁股还没从上一下挨打中缓过劲来,一触即疼。安妮又大叫了出来,珀金斯不耐烦地撇了撇嘴:“安妮小姐,请您表现得克制一点!”

啪!

安妮努力想表现出克制但是这太难了。眼泪从她的眼里流了下来…

啪!

…但是就在同一时间她意识到自己湿了。怎么会?有一种…

啪!

…一种愉悦的感觉产生了!但是为什么?这样不对,这样不…

啪!

…不正常!挨打是痛苦的,噢好疼!她想停下,她想结束,但是…

啪!

…但是同时她又不想这样;挨打同时还让她兴奋,以一种她不能…

啪!

…真正理解的方式。哎哟,真疼!几下了?到现在她挨了几下了?6下?或者可能是…

啪!

…可能是7下。那么如果这是第7下,后面就只剩下3下了…

啪!

…又一下,不只剩两下了!这两下从来没有现在看起来这么多但是…

啪!

…但是就要结束了,现在还剩最后一下,来吧!来吧!来吧我需要这个!哦…

啪!

…噢爽~!!!结束了,完成了!

“谢谢你赛克斯,现在你能把这位年轻的小姐解开,帮她准备惩罚的第二步吗?”

“当然可以女士。”

“安妮小姐,您已经完成了对您的惩罚的第一步。在加娜小姐的学校惩罚分为两个部分:首先是肉体的疼痛,其次是给您一个机会反思自己的过错并忏悔。每一个不检点的行为按照规定都要有12个小时的反思和忏悔时间,因此您准确的封装禁闭时间应该为24个小时。现在赛克斯会帮您穿上惩罚束腰。”

到了这一步安妮被绑上一个束腰杆,然后赛克斯拿出一副安妮见过的最特别的束腰。实际上,它看起来不像束腰,倒像件连体衣,因为它紧紧包裹住了安妮从脚趾上面一直到头顶除了双臂和脸庞以外的身体。“安妮小姐,作为惩罚的束腰总是要勒得比您平常的腰围再小半英寸的,还有茎腰也要长半英寸。”珀金斯告诉安妮,她看起来挺享受自己的女主人承受巨大痛苦的样子。“穿上这个对您会是种折磨的,小姐。”

的确是一种折磨。花了超过一个小时这件衣服才完全绑好,一旦穿好以后,从踮起的足尖到被强行拉长的脖子上面不得不向后仰起的头部,安妮没有一块肌肉还能运动。但是最糟糕的还是她被无情碾压的腰肢。她成了一尊塑像,而且由于屋子里的高温,她已经出了好多汗了。穿好以后,她被从束腰杆上放下来,双手铐在身前,屋子中央有一张硬板床,安妮被放在上面,从床上的气味安妮怀疑这张床可能属于赛克斯。

“现在安妮小姐,”珀金斯继续说道,“在反思和忏悔的过程中,您的双臂要做到完美的背祷势,赛克斯,不知你是否能好心地帮我个忙?”

“当然可以女士。”

完美的背祷势!再没有别的能比这个更可怕,更痛苦了!安妮颤抖了一下但是什么也没说。毕竟,淑女是不会抱怨的,而且等到这场煎熬结束,她再也不会急匆匆地违反命令了,哪怕有一个朋友正陷入麻烦也不会!

又花了大概10分钟他们才把安妮的双臂扭成完美而高难度的背祷势,然后再整齐地捆好。接着赛克斯推出了一个陌生而古怪的装置,就像个小小的平台,平台上有一根大约两英寸高的杆子直直地向上竖着。平台下面还安有轮子。然后魁梧的锅炉工人把一动也不能动的安妮整个举起立到平台上面,那根竖立的杆子被插进束衣里以免安妮摔倒,同时珀金斯把安妮绑好固定住。等到这一切也完成后女仆给安妮解释了剩下的惩罚是什么。

“请到这边来,安妮小姐。”

安妮当然一点也动不了,但是赛克斯体贴地推动站台穿过房间经由一扇门进入了另一个更小的地下室。在这间屋子里站着一个粗壮的女人,她的身型被一件斗篷还有兜帽所覆盖。

“这是另一位正因行为不端而受到惩罚的学生,”珀金斯解释说。“她是您的哪位朋友并不重要,因为受罚在这里是私密的事情;我把她展示给您是因为这样您就可以明白反思和忏悔是怎么进行的了。”

接着女仆走到那个人形旁边解开了斗篷。斗篷掉到地上露出了一件厚厚的没有手臂的羊毛长裙。然而,让安妮震惊的还不是这个。真正让安妮震惊的是在人形脸的位置她看到的是一副全包面具,面具的双眼紧闭就像这只是个睡着了的玩偶一样。在这整个过程中,人形一直保持着一动不动的姿势,它在安妮眼里更像是一具人体模型而非一个活生生的女孩。

“首先是衬裙,”珀金斯下令,赛克斯又走过来,安妮的双臂上被覆盖了大量的面料。不少于10条衬裙被穿到安妮身上,然后是一条薄薄的棉质长裙盖住了安妮的身体。接着是最重要的一条灰色羊毛长裙,式样陈旧而且很厚。安妮打了个哆嗦。地下室里已经够热的了,穿上这个还怎么受得了!这条长裙扣紧以后温度迅速地上升了。然而,珀金斯却还没有收手。

“现在我要给您戴上兜帽了,这顶帽子的前面带有全包面具。戴上它您就什么也看不到了,而且您的耳朵里会塞上耳塞让您只能听到很小的声音。您的世界会变成一片漆黑的寂静,还有酷热和您红肿的屁股一起提醒着您自己的错误。利用这段时间全神贯注,好好地反省自己的过错并乞求原谅。明天的同一时间从您现在的蚕茧中将孵化出一只新的、道德更加高尚的蝴蝶。现在戴上兜帽,赛克斯!”

兜帽是皮革做的,在后面系紧。它压迫着安妮的头部,让安妮感到孤独和一种幽闭的恐惧。没有眼孔的世界一片黑暗,而温度也立刻上升。只有她的鼻孔通过面具上的小洞呼吸时透过的微弱而温暖的轻风能提醒安妮外部世界的存在。

安妮感到又有一层额外的重量被加到身上,她估计那是件斗篷,然后又是一串动作,安妮被推到了房间的墙角站好。之后就什么也没有了。一开始这种感觉实在难以忍受,她想要解放自己去反抗;没有任何念头或是这种时光能吓倒她。温度更高了,出的汗更多了。她意识到自己必须保持平静但却很难做到。她渴望睡眠可是却睡不着,取而代之的是她孤独地呆在自己的囚牢里,浑身到处都疼,压迫感从每一个角度逼来;但是莫名其妙地又有一种奇怪的安全感。

这种安全感给予了她安慰。自从她来到英格兰起,她生活的方方面面都被改变了;她被送去做了丰体手术,变成了一个玩物;剥夺了许多权利又被给予了一个新的名字和信仰。她失去了对自己生活的一切控制权而现在她又要嫁给一个陌生人,从此作为他的玩物而存在,直到他去世然后…好吧,然后他的儿子会接管她。这一切都是那么地不公平,那么地不正当,那么地难以接受…

但是同时,在英格兰,从来没有一次,甚至哪怕一秒,她感到自己身处危险之中过。生活艰难,是的,但是它是安全的。在这里她被照看着。甚至是在这间地下室里,这间热得让她汗流浃背难以忍受的地下室里,浑身一块肌肉也不能动,被埋葬在衣物和束腰里,哪怕就是在这里,她知道他们也还在照看着她,她是安全的,她不会受到任何伤害。这些念头帮助她思考也渐渐在她的心田里迅速地生根发芽。她回想那两件自己犯下的招致惩罚的小错。之前她曾对自己因为这些小错而受到惩罚愤怒——毕竟,当时的情况是特殊的,并非不可饶恕的。但是现在,她意识到,这种安全感是神圣的,就像那人们苦苦找寻的圣杯一样的神圣。但是这种安全感只有所有人都遵守规则时才会实现,无论当时的情况是否特殊,她都破坏了规则。不,惩罚是公正的,哪怕承受起来是如此艰难。这些安慰性的想法就像是一条救生艇,载着她穿过心中的大洋渐渐远去。

第十六章

直到珀金斯为她摘下全包面具,昏暗的灯光晃晕了双眼,安妮才意识到身上的束缚正被人解开。紧接着饥渴袭来,她感激地喝下女仆提供给她的一整壶水。随后她被解下来。另一个戴着兜帽的身影现在已经不见了。惩罚束腰被慢慢地脱下,她自己的束腰被松松垮垮地穿到身上。然后她回到楼上洗了一个长长的热水澡接着就上床了。安妮之后一下子睡了12个小时,尽管之前的那24个小时她分明什么事情都没做。

惩罚结束后,安妮变得比以前更温顺了,她带着顺从的心态接受了一切事情,也欣然接受了自己的改变,因为这极大地减轻了生活中的压力。她在潜意识中把自己交给了别人,放弃了自己的意志,甚至也不像以前那样在办公室里反抗了,这样做了之后,生活变得更愉快了。距离婚期只剩几周了,她全身心地投入到了对婚礼的准备之中,想的一切都与如何尽她所能取悦自己未来的丈夫有关。

从好的一面来看受罚还带来了另一个影响。那段持续地穿着惩罚束腰的时光让她的身体减掉了一些体重并且更适应新的更紧的尺寸了。辛普森小姐问她是否想要退回以前由她未婚夫指定的身材尺寸,但是安妮知道他会更喜欢现在更小的尺寸的所以决定继续保持。这意味着婚纱的尺寸也需要重新修改并且会多花一笔钱,但是她不在乎,因为她知道这样只会让她的未婚夫高兴。

婚礼前两天,安妮经历了她在加纳小姐的学校的践行晚餐。晚餐并不盛大,因为绝大多数女孩——包括克莱尔·霍金斯——都已经各自结婚了,但是食物很精致,安妮很高兴加娜小姐决定亲自出席纪念这一时刻。接下来的那天安妮坐火车去往伦敦,她在圣潘克拉斯车站遇见了她的继父,然后他们一起去了圣·洛朗先生的精品店进行最后一次试衣并确定服装的细节,再然后就该去酒店了,布鲁姆斯伯里金碧辉煌的坎伯兰大酒店,安妮的婚礼还有新婚之夜马上就要在那里进行。“看!”罗伯特勋爵叫汽车停下指着外面说道,“那座建筑就是苏联大使馆,在它的阴影下你真正走进了英国贵族的生活,是不是很相得益彰?”那座石头盖的现代主义的建筑占据了街道的主要位置,安妮看着它思考着。是的,从某种意义上说的确是相得益彰。

安妮后来很希望自己能描绘出婚礼当天的细节来,但是实际上只有一团模糊的印象。她在清晨4点就被叫醒,着装开始了,最终到10点,她准备好了,穿着一身白色丝绸和鲜花做的极其漂亮的礼服。接着她迈着小碎步走到外面,一匹马和一辆马车正备好了等她,马车载着她穿过首都的街道到了威斯敏斯特大教堂,在那里她下车,缓步走过长长的走道步向正等待她的新郎。然后是神父证婚,然后坐车穿过首都抵达海德公园,他们在那里拍了婚纱照,最后再回到坎伯兰大酒店,婚礼的招待宴会在那里举行,超过一千名贵族聚集在那里为他们的婚姻祝福并用餐。用餐之后(安妮实际上什么也没吃),是演讲,再然后是舞会,但是穿着她身上的裙子安妮没法跳舞也没法做任何事情,除了站在那里保持微笑,于是,按照传统的要求,一个领奖台一样的东西被推出来,然后安妮被放了上去,(她被以一种隐秘的方式固定在了上面就像她受罚时一样),接着她被推到了舞会的正中央,当管弦乐队演奏着乐曲,一对对夫妇跳着华尔兹时,安妮就像商店橱窗里的一件水晶装饰一样缓慢地旋转着,站在那里接受所有人的欣赏,很像是婚礼蛋糕上的新娘塑像。这之后,大概10点,她被移下来,所有人一起举杯为她祝酒,然后她被珀金斯带到楼上奢华的新婚套房去准备她生命中最重要的一夜。

一到那里,珀金斯就给她解开衣服,脱下一层层精致的丝绸,直到一年以来第一次,她呈现完全的裸体。然后在洒满玫瑰的水里给她洗了个极其奢华的澡,之后再给她扑上香粉擦干,带她回到新婚房间。

“那么安妮小姐,现在要给你准备好,”女仆说道,“公爵已经命令…”

“停!”安妮厉声说。她甚至无法相信自己竟然会说出这样的话。

“抱歉,安妮小姐…”

“你忘了吗珀金斯,现在是安妮‘夫人’,或者‘女士’!”

“我很抱歉夫人,但是…”

“没有‘但是’,你现在离开,珀金斯!”

“但是夫人,老爷…”

“我才是你的女主人,不是他,也不是我叔叔,更不是加娜小姐!当我要你离开时,你就得离开!当我想要你给我准备时我会叫你。我需要时间一个人想一想。出去!”

珀金斯显然并不想走,但是她也意识到权力的平衡被改变了,她严厉的表情变得温顺,“是,夫人。”她像只老鼠一样急匆匆地跑出了房间,并小心地关上了她身后的房门。

珀金斯离开后,安妮走到门边,转动锁孔里的钥匙。就在她这么做的时候,她感到很奇怪,一开始她不理解为什么。很快她明白了:这是她几个月来第一次使用自己的双手做事情,她现在不是完全的无助和依赖于别人了。她举起双手放到自己面前,慢慢地让双手相互摩擦。触碰的感觉很不真实,这种触碰被否定了那么久。一种狂怒的心情飞一般地在她的心里闪过:这个社会有什么权力去否定这种如此简单的快乐?

安妮走到窗边向外看去,毫不在意外面的人可能会看到她的裸体。道路的另一面耸立着一座宏伟的庞然大物,灰色的砖石方方正正,它是另一个非常不同的、更现代的世界的象征。光辉的红旗和红旗上洋洋得意的镰刀锤子在夜晚的微风中骄傲地飘扬。有人会说那里更自由、更人性。当科赞勋爵在他们驶过时提到她的婚礼就将在大使馆的对面举行时,她旧日的祖国与自我的符号并没有让她在那时产生任何感想,但是随着几个小时过去,就像一粒芥末籽,已经从萌芽长成了参天大树。此刻的她,独自一人而身无阻碍,只要穿过这条路就能得到拯救。她需要做的一切不过是披上一件睡袍,从冷清的走廊里溜出去,走下楼梯,穿过仆人们走的门,再跨过街道。自由!再也不当金丝雀女士了,再也不是安妮·霍华德了,再也不是诺福克公爵夫人了,再也不用被绑着、被压迫、被以任何一种能想像得到的方式束缚着了,再也不用成为一个她几乎都不认识的男人的财产了。只要穿过这几扇门,安妮就会死去而阿娜斯塔西娅·科尔雅科诺娃就会重生!独立的阿娜斯塔西娅,在这片大陆遥远的另一边拥有值得期盼的幸福生活的阿娜斯塔西娅,曾经那么快乐的阿娜斯塔西娅。他们会接受她吗?当然会!报纸会爱死这个故事的,现代的苏联女性被迫违背自己的意志与一个落后的领主结婚,而那领主要把她绑在他的城堡里,与文明世界相隔绝。她会成为女英雄的!英国人当然会痛恨这件事,他们会抱怨会责骂,抗议说这是他们的习惯、他们的文化、他们的宗教,但是面对苏联的力量,他们又敢怎么样呢?

从这面象征机遇的窗户边转过身去,安妮走到摆放着她睡袍的床边。当她这样做的时候,她的眼睛捕捉到了一缕来自镜中的自己的目光,她停了下来。转身去看,这竟然是她第一次看到自己裸露的新身体。站在她面前的再也不是那个她曾熟知的阿娜斯塔西娅·科尔雅科诺娃了,取而代之的是另一个更能激起肉欲、更丰满性感的女人。那具曾经假小子一样的身材现在已经满是曲线了:一对硕大的圆球突出于她的胸腔之上,很明显是嫁接的,成熟圆润好似甜瓜,夸张的毫无下垂的乳头有顶针那么大,而这些下面,哪怕没有束腰,极细的腰肢连她的双手也可以环握。然后,在这一切之下,身体又一次变宽,巨大的臀部比例惊人,两个庞大而透露出母性的圆球,大得像是有人曾把那种给轮胎充气的气泵插进她的肛门里,然后打气,打啊打打啊打,直到再也没有空气进得去了才停止一样。她摸了摸那两瓣屁股,再硬的车轮胎也不过如此。她再也不是个女人,反而更像个卡通人物,身体每一个该放大的部位都得到了放大,就像迪斯尼动画里的贝蒂娃娃一样。“他们对你做了什么啊,阿尼?”她问道。没有回答。阿尼没有回答,因为她美容过的嘴唇没法说话。这已经不再是她的双唇了,取而代之的是圣经里那些引诱男人的女人像拔示巴或者莎乐美的双唇。当然了,阿尼从来没有读过圣经。

从另一方面来说,安妮知道得很清楚。

“他们有能力移除这些丰体的痕迹,剪掉你的头发,把你恢复成原来的那个你。”

但是这样的话语是空洞的,毫无意义和感染力。她的双手已经在不知不觉间摸上了立起的乳头,正轻轻地抚慰着它们。

“你必须做出选择,阿尼!”

声音是那样急迫但是阿尼却没有回应。她没法回应,因为她的存在已经在几个月前就被终止了。她透过窗户望向那飘舞着象征自由的旗帜。然后她转身向着床走过去,躺在上面,拉动了身边连着响铃的绳索。不到1分钟珀金斯就进来了。

“珀金斯,我休息得够久了。我需要准备一下!”

“好的,夫人。公爵已经要求…”

“停!我不管他说了什么。你要按照我的指示而不是他的给我准备。现在仔细听好…”

于是珀金斯真地听了,也真地遵照了安妮的要求。一小时以后她离开了她的女主人,按照女主人要她做的去请诺福克公爵上来。

安妮·霍华德在一片漆黑的房间里等待着。她的每一个动作都必须集中注意力才能保持清醒。她的腰间环绕着婚礼束腰,系紧到十三又四分之三英寸的束腰就像咬进她的身体里一样让她痛苦而虚弱。相似地,她的脖颈也被挤压和拉长,以至于她虽然是趴着的,眼睛却凝视着天花板。她的双脚,绑进了卧室穿的足尖靴里,又被和她巨大而诱人的双臀捆到了一起,而她的双臂也被扭成了痛苦而优雅的完美背祷势,已经因压迫而失去了知觉。但是在献给她的丈夫的所有这一切里,最高的荣耀还属她已经准备好供人享用的屁股,一块垫子把她的臀部垫高以方便张开和进入,洞洞边画有一对诱人的红唇。

‘他会永远铭记他的新婚之夜的!’诺福克公爵夫人断言,安妮·霍华德在她的口中花后面沉默着,而阿纳斯塔西娅静静地沉睡在她的坟墓里。

后记

读者们可能会有兴趣看一看我一开始为这篇小说写的另一个很不一样的结局,而且要是我最后选择的这个结局并不能让你满意的话,或许对另一种结局的简要概述可以让你感到好受一些。在我原先的结局里,安妮也是赤裸着身体让珀金斯出去,她走向窗户看到俄国大使馆,坚定了自己逃跑的计划。她试图逃跑但是在下楼时遇上了她的继父,(他猜到了安妮的意图),勋爵护送她上楼回到房间等待她的丈夫。然而,一上到楼上,珀金斯表明了她愿意帮助安妮的意愿,但是作为回报安妮要把她也带到苏联去,因为她很多年来一直渴望能像个自由的女性那样生活。于是安妮和她两人打扮成女仆,(珀金斯拿来了额外的女仆装),偷偷溜进了苏联大使馆,在那里安妮表明了自己的身份并得到了庇护。然后安妮和珀金斯一起去了莫斯科,她成了名人,以一种就像那些在我们的世界里嫁给阿拉伯人然后又从残酷的生活中逃了出来的西方妇女一样的方式。她计划通过做手术把那些被丰体变大了的身体部位再变小,但是并不是所有她在英国经历的改造都是可逆的,而且一位医生向她建议,由于她的肌肉萎缩的是那么厉害,如果停止束腰她的身体是会出问题的。于是就这样安妮成了电影明星,在苏联根据莎士比亚或者狄更斯的作品改编的电影里表演英国妇女,或者扮演托尔斯泰和普希金笔下的那些俄罗斯女英雄。她后来成了政治局的一员并且到了伦敦当大使。在伦敦她遇见了嫁给霍普上校后又因为上校去世而成了遗孀的克莱尔。于是就这样,安妮带着克莱尔回到莫斯科,她俩开始了一段激情充沛的蕾丝边关系,在距离莫斯科几百公里以外的湖边一座美丽的乡间别墅里度过了余生。

正如我说的,喜欢哪一种结局是您的自由。

——DP

A Different Reality: Part 2

Part 1

 

Chapter 3

He stood at the back of the room in the doorway and surveyed the scene before him. Standing in the centre of the room, with her back to him, was the Miss Updike. Her long, ebony sausage curls cascaded down her back and onto her shoulders, bobbing about with every movement, while her waist had never looked finer, the harsh lacing regime of the academy causing it to dive down into an elegant, narrow stem. The sky-blue evening dress that she wore was exquisite and the blue ribbons and pearls in her hair merely complimented it. He strode into the room and, when he was just behind her shoulder and could smell her perfume, announced in a quiet voice, “Miss Suzanna, how delightful to see you again!” She spun around, and her visage faced his. Casting his eye over her snow-white skin, her large, dark eyes and her inviting rosebud lips, he felt that she truly had become the vision of feminine perfection. Her lips though, when they parted, merely uttered one accusatory word, “You!” before she slumped into a faint and he caught her in his arms.


The acrid smell of the salts revived her, and she found herself lying on the couch being fanned by two maids. She glanced about her and her eyes fixed on the male who had addressed her moments before. There was no doubt about it: it was he. She knew him. Seeing her revitalised, the doctor smiled and said, “Miss Suzanna, it is so good to have you back again. Seeing me seems to have given you a shock and yet it is only a month since I went away. But then I forget; Doctor Lowe explained that you are suffering from a bout of amnesia. I must have surprised you, please, let me apologise.”

“Doctor Potter has been most concerned about you,” added Madam Rossiter. “And you should thank him; he caught you as you fell.”

“That is not Doctor Potter,” said Suzie, defiant. “He is Dave Potter. I know him.”

“Of course, you do, and my first name is David,” replied the doctor. “I have been a friend of this institution for many years. We have met many times.”

“No, not here! You’re lying! They’re all lying! I know you from there, the other place. We met there; you were a client of our company. You wanted to date me; we did go out, but you were dull and sexist, so I dumped you.”

“Oh dear,” declared Doctor Lowe mournfully, “the delusions have returned!”


The following morning, she was summoned to Madam Rossiter’s office and her gag removed. The two doctors were sitting there, and they were eager to talk about her “delusions”.

“Tell me about this other life that you imagine you lived,” said Doctor Lowe.

“I’m not imagining it; I did live it. He knows; he was there!” She would have pointed at Doctor Potter at this point but, of course, trammelled as her arms were inside her ballooning gigot sleeves, she could not.

Potter smiled as if sympathetic and then said, “Tell me, Miss Suzanna, what role did I play in this other life?”

“You know full well which role.”

“Yes, yes, but please, for the benefit of Doctor Lowe here, please explain it to us.”

“I was… I am an HR manager at Dovegate Financial Services. Dave Potter here is one of our clients. He came to the company for an event we held to encourage clients to invest in one of our new products. We shared some glasses of champagne together and he asked me out on a date. We dated a few times but did not gel. To be honest, I found you a bit sexist and dull, so I broke it off, as you well know Mr. Potter!”

“Hmm… this is very interesting,” said Lowe. “It seems, David, that our patient here has included you in her fantasy world, but it is some sort of mirror image of the real Doctor Potter.” Suzie would have objected to this, but her maid, who was standing behind her, had replaced her gag. “Yes indeed, in her hyper-liberated fantasy world, you are sexist and misogynistic whereas in reality, you are the most liberal man I’ve come across. Why, you even advocate married women being allowed to speak with males other than their husbands or fathers. Remarkable! But which psychological processes are causing this, do you think?”

“I’m unsure Obadiah, but I believe that Miss Suzanna’s case requires some extra attention. If she does not mind, I should like to talk with her further.”

“Miss Suzanna has no objections whatsoever,” replied Lowe, not consulting her at all.


From that day, Doctor David Potter became a regular feature in her life and, to be honest, she welcomed it. She would be taken out of those interminably boring sessions on wifely deportment, or relaxation times spent staring into space, and walked to his office where her gag would be removed, and he would talk to her about her other life (as he termed it), taking notes all the time. At first all she could talk about was that how he knew anyway since he was part of it and it was probably him that had brought her here (wherever here was) but, with time, she cooled and began to talk about it as if it were another time and place. He seemed especially interested in whether anyone else from her present reality had also inhabited her past and, since no one else had, why she was focussing on him. In all honesty, she did not know. He had been there then, and he was there now and that was all there was to it. He would smile as if full of psychological wisdom and she would be reminded of how patronising the old Dave Potter could be in the other life, again one of the reasons why she’d dumped him. This Dave Potter though, whilst undoubtedly a misogynist and patronising, was different. After all, everyone was misogynistic in this world and everybody patronised her or just plain ignored her, seeing her more as a pretty doll or feminine accessory to the room than a living breathing human being. This Dave Potter at least acknowledged her humanity and for that, she warmed to him, even if his presence confused her at the core of her being.


A couple of weeks after their first meeting – or at least, their first meeting in this stage of this reality – Doctor Potter suggested that he and Miss Suzanna take a walk in the grounds. Her maid smiled at this as if something special was implied but Suzie merely groaned behind her gag. Walking was a trial in the boots that she was forced to wear. As the weeks passed, the heels slowly got higher and she was now perched almost on tiptoe, teetering on fifteen-centimetre heels. Worse still, her maid had shown her the end goal: a pair of boots called en-pointe which forced the wearer to walk on their toes like a ballet dancer. They looked terrifying.

Not only were the boots a trial, but her costume made her feel vulnerable in other ways. Unable to use her arms for balance, she was petrified of falling over and so required a maid to hold her at all times, whilst the slight physical exertion coupled with her excruciatingly tight corset meant that within seconds she was panting for air and her breasts surged up and down embarrassingly. And then, to top it all (literally) whenever she left the building, she was required to wear a ridiculous bonnet with a long rim that caused her vision to be like looking through a tunnel except that, at the end of this tunnel, a thick veil was hung which reduced everything to a whitey-grey blur.

Taking hold of one of her faux arms in one hand and putting his other firmly around her waist, Doctor Potter guided Suzie out of the building and along the treacherous gravel paths that surrounded the lawns. Several times they had to stop for her to regain her breath but then, at the summer house in the shrubbery, he helped her to sit and then, much to her surprise and pleasure, flipped back the veil to give her a better view of her surroundings.

“Miss Suzanna,” he began, “I’ve brought you out here today because I want to have a special chat out of the earshot of both Madam Rossiter and Doctor Lowe. No, do not fear, I do not wish to say anything improper; but what I will say is rather eccentric. Do you know much of the world of science, Miss Suzanna?”

Suzie, who had got a double A* in her GCSE Science exams in that other reality, nodded her head.

“Excellent. Then do you know anything of dark matter?”

This time she had to shake her head.

“Well that is not to be a matter for surprise since this is a complicated subject indeed and women’s minds can easily be confused… or at least that is what my colleague Doctor Lowe insists. But to continue, dark matter is matter that exists, but we cannot detect it. Scientists know that it exists because they have done some incredibly complicated equations which prove that it is there, but it is just not detectable. Now, and you need not worry your pretty little head about this too much – and may I say how radiant you are looking this morning, Miss Suzanna? – this dark matter has caused much debate, conjecture and theorising amongst the scientific community and one theory that has come to the fore is that of parallel universes; that is to say that here, now, there is another universe that exists but we are just unaware of it. Now many – including Doctor Lowe – pooh pooh this theory, but I for one think it has merits and that is why your particular case intrigues me. You tell me that you believe this other life you have lived to be real and I believe you, but how can it have been? Unless that is, you were living in a parallel universe as this other Suzanna Lowe and then somehow, you crossed over to this reality. Does that make sense to you?”

Suzie nodded enthusiastically. This meant that she was not lying. It was an explanation that bore out her witness!

“Of course, there are many issues with the theory, namely how come you managed to cross over when no one else seems to have been able to do so and what has happened to the Miss Suzanna Updike who lived here – is she now in your other reality? And why did I appear in both worlds and what is it that is drawing us together? Many questions indeed. Anyway, I have a proposal to make. I am going to offer to Doctor Lowe and Madam Rossiter that you move into my house in order that I may explore those questions further. Do not fear, your training will not be affected and there shall be no improper behaviour, but how does that sound to you?”

In the old reality, that parallel universe in which she had once lived, Suzie would have been horrified by the thought of moving in with the patronising and sexist Dave Potter. But in this reality, the silent, restrained and modest Lady of Leisure Suzanna Updike merely nodded her assent with joy.

 

Chapter 4

Life changed considerably for Suzie when she moved to Doctor Potter’s house and, generally, it was for the better. Before she left the academy though, she had an unpleasant surprise. The morning before she moved out, after her morning bathing and toilette, she found herself being fitted with a strange new device. It was like a pair of underpants except that it was made out of metal and had a grille at the front through which liquids could pass through. Her maid explained that it was a chastity belt and would help ensure her womanly purity should the good doctor – who was a single man after all – be unable to control himself when confronted by her immense beauty. The inherent sexism in it all appalled her a little, but she had to admit that, trammelled as she was, she would be unable to resist any male advances, welcome or otherwise.

The chastity belt though, created problems of its own. For some reason, inside it there were a series of rubber nubs that caressed her sex continually, causing her desire to rise yet not providing any relief. To be honest, ever since she had woken up that awful morning in her sleeping sack, she had longed to touch her womanly parts and relieve her pent-up longing – being corseted and restrained only seemed to heighten it – but this brought things to an entirely new level.

Dave Potter’s house was a large dwelling some distance across town from the academy. Suzie couldn’t say how far exactly as the veil and bonnet that she’d worn for the journey had effectively blindfolded her, but she had not been in the taxi for long. In it she had her own room that was well-appointed and, most pleasingly, her regime was relaxed somewhat. Although her arms were almost continually restrained, Potter encouraged conversation at mealtimes and would often invite her to sit in the garden with him wearing not a bonnet with a veil, but instead a sunhat which was far less restrictive. Furthermore, every evening, as part of her treatment, he allowed her to have her arms freed and she would write a diary talking of her experiences in that other reality and how she felt about this new reality that she found herself in. In this she would talk about her memories from that other existence, perhaps in a parallel universe, perhaps merely in her head, and how they made living her current life more difficult. Every day Potter would read these entries and he declared that they were undoubtedly helping her to come to terms with the mental and psychological issues that she was battling. He also, patiently and slowly, explained to her, that while these delusions may seem superficially pleasing to her, in the long term she would always be happier in her current lifestyle as medical research had proved that women’s brains are wired up differently to those of menfolk and that they are patently unsuited to taking on positions of responsibility and power.

However, along with these positive developments, there were also some that were less welcome. One came on the orders of Madam Rossiter who said that there was a new fashion in arm restraint that was becoming popular and she thought that Miss Suzanna would benefit from achieving it. This was called reverse prayer and it involved having her hands palm-to-palm together as if in prayer but behind her back, brushing her neck. This position was said to improve both posture and piety, but it was awfully difficult to achieve since, once the palm-to-palm aspect had been managed, the elbows were then slowly – and painfully – drawn together. It transpired that Suzie spent much of her time restrained in this fashion – six hours per day – and she was glad indeed when her aching arms were released and laced back into their gigot sleeves.

The other change was more disconcerting than negative. After a week of treatment, Doctor Potter suggested that, in order to help her adapt to her new reality better and separate the two realities in her mind, she adopt a new name and be Suzanna no longer, but instead someone else. She could not object as she was firmly gagged and her arms locked into the agonising reverse prayer formation at the time, but the good doctor decreed that she would now be called Claudine after the character in the Colette novels (whom she’d never heard of) and so Claudine she was and to celebrate, she embroidered herself a new gag panel with Claudine Updike emblazoned upon it, surrounded by pink roses. Which was all well and good except that now the old, independent Suzie seemed even more of a distant figure, separate from the pampered feminine accessory that she had now become.

But life was not bad, and, despite his patronising airs, Claudine found herself strangely attracted to Dave Potter in a way that the old Suzie Updike never had been. Perhaps because he was the only man she ever saw, perhaps because her sex was constantly being titillated by the chastity belt or perhaps because there was some genuine attraction she could not say, but she found herself waking up in her sleeping sack after dreaming passionate and improper dreams about him whilst, as he sat talking to her in the garden, she imagined them both undressing and engaging in wild and wanton sex.

Nor too was the attraction purely one-way for about a month after her arrival in his house, a month where the tell-tale glances and subtle comments had grown daily in number, the two were out in the garden as evening was beginning and the sky had turned orange and Doctor Potter remarked on how beautiful it all was, before then adding that it was not so beautiful as her and, before she knew it, he had leaned over, removed her gag and was kissing her passionately, a kiss which she returned.


The following morning, dressed in her reverse-prayer configuration and securely gagged, she was led to Doctor Potter’s office. He saw her as she entered and bade her sit before sending the maid away. “It looks as if you are praying for forgiveness,” he said smiling weakly and indicating her restrained arms. She did not reply as she could not, so he continued: “Last night we transgressed grossly, both of us, though particularly me. You are a woman and thus weak of mind and body, but I was in a position of responsibility and I should not have done that. I am sorry. Unfortunately, though, sorry is not enough. Having transgressed thus, it is now inappropriate for you to stay under my roof. I am not to be trusted and you are a temptation too great for any man to resist. So, you must return to the academy.”

At these words she shook her head, but the doctor did not seem to notice. Instead, he continued: “However, there is another option. My feelings for you which I expressed so inappropriately yesterday evening were genuine and I think… nay, hope, that the fact that you responded so eagerly, that they are reciprocated. Therefore, I have a question to ask: Claudine Updike, will you marry me? That way we can sate those feelings legally and correctly whilst living together more fully and not being wrenched apart by the conventions of this world?”

Marry Dave Potter, the very man whom she had rejected in another world not so long ago. And yet, what better option did she have? Who else had shown her any understanding? And whoever she chose, she would still be treated as a lady of leisure, a pretty feminine accessory with no purpose in life beyond reflecting her spouse’s wealth and trumpeting her dependence and helplessness?


Claudine Updike did return to the academy that evening, but it was so that she could be prepared for her wedding in a month’s time rather than in disgrace for her transgressions. The other students as well as her maid and Madam Rossiter who overjoyed for her and started planning her gown and giving her wifely instructions on everything from after-dinner conversation (when possible) to affairs of the night (husbands appreciate it if you wake them every morning by sucking on their tool. An accomplished wife can achieve the waking and the eruption of seed simultaneously).

Even exhortations to perform oral sex however, were nothing compared to the shock of what Madam Rossiter had to announce the following day.

“Your fiancé has provided me with his list of modifications. Now, I appreciate that this is what sent you over the edge last time, but these are far less severe, rather mild in my opinion.”

Claudine hadn’t got a clue what she was referring to, but during their free conversation that evening, Petronella explained: “All men specify modifications that they want performing on their spouses before marriage. It is so that they can personalise us, make us unique and partially designed by them. It is a great honour!”

A great honour it may have been, but that evening as she lay sweating in her sleeping sack, Claudine’s mind tossed over the implications of what she had been told. She was to have her body, her very being, physically altered for the pleasure of a man. Her breasts, which she had never regarded as being overly small, were to be pumped full of silicon or something purely to please her fiancé and she, the owner of those breasts, had no say in the matter. As she lay there in the clammy darkness, the old Suzie reasserted herself over the new Claudine and she resisted both mentally and physically, tossing and writhing, fighting to get out. But the strong leather of the sack held firm as it was designed to do and, eventually, sometime in the dark hours, she passed away exhausted and drenched in sweat, all resistance having proved futile.

The following day when she was dressed in her finest outdoor gown incorporating the reverse-prayer configuration (declared de rigueur up until her wedding by Madam Rossiter) and taken to the hospital. There, she was shown into a consulting room and a male doctor explained her forthcoming modifications to her. More humiliating than that, without asking her, he reached forward, opened up her dress and then loosened the top of her stays, taking out her breasts, squeezing and fondling them mos inappropriately. Claudine would have resisted but her costume trammelled her completely and she was still exhausted from the exertions of the night and so she just sat passively and listened like a dutiful maiden should do. The doctor explained that 300cc implants were to be added to each breast, taking out examples of said implants and demonstrating what her new, huge tits would look like. And, as if this were not bad enough, he then proceeded to state that her lips would also be collagen enhanced. Finally, the doctor noted with surprise that no work was being done on her bottom, but then ended with the humiliating line, “Although it is excessively large without work, so I suppose none is necessary.” An hour later she was put under anaesthesia and her world went black. When she awoke, her lips were plumped and puffy whilst her breasts had been replaced by two heavy, large spherical balls of flesh that defied gravity. Everyone pronounced them to be great improvements although she was far from sure. When she saw herself in the mirror, the old Suzie from that other world seemed further away than ever, unrecognisable almost, and in her place a beautiful doll with unnatural proportions named Claudine stood looking back. She shivered.

Following that day Claudine’s life became a bleary whirl of wedding preparations. She was measured and remeasured for her gown and her corseting regime intensified in order for her to achieve the seemingly impossible measurement of 45cm for her wedding day. This led to her feeling continually weak and on the verge of fainting or, as Madam Rossiter termed it, “delightfully fragile and feminine”. Coupled with the strictures of her costume, she was also subjected to endless lessons on the duty of being a wife. Since she would be living as a Lady of Leisure and thus unable to cook and clean for her husband (who could afford maids to do such things), her lessons consisted solely of making conversation with him (which largely seemed to be how to praise him and caress his ego continually) and how to satisfy him sexually which the emphasis being purely on the latter. Madam Rossiter explained that there were two kinds of wife: a pleasure wife and a breeding wife, the former existing solely to bring her husband sexual pleasure and the latter to bear his children. “Most men keep their spouses as pleasure wives during their youthful years, before then allowing them to graduate on to the honour of breeding,” she explained, “although some older gentlemen with heirs already may marry a younger wife purely to give them pleasure in their old age. But whatever the case, pleasure or breeding, what you need to understand is that your bedtime performance is now central to your entire existance.”

Now Claudine was a virgin as all unmarried girls should be, but, perversely, the Suzie of her delusions, was quite sexually experienced and, somehow, these false memories kept crowding in during the lessons which, coupled with the titillating effect of her chastity belt and the fact that the same belt ensured she could gain son relief, made her feel constantly aroused and horny. Oral sex, as promised, was a major factor from the beginning, with it being made clear that this form of satisfaction would be one that she would be providing regularly for her husband. Most embarrassingly, Madam Rossiter had Cecille, one of the maids, brought into the lessons and stripped down to her underwear, before having a replica of a male tool strapped around her. Claudine then had to kneel in front of the passive maid and suck on this faux member, while Madame Rossiter critiqued her performance. It was highly embarrassing, and shame-making and she felt like curling up and dying the first time it took place. Equally embarrassing was that, at the end of every meal, in honour of the fact that she was soon to be married, she was forced to drink a small cup of “spouse’s port”, a salty, sticky liquid which Claudine recognised from her days as Suzie as being male semen. She had to imbue this in front of the others, swallowing every last drop and then licking out the cup, after everything else and no liquid was allowed afterwards so that the delicious tastes of the meals were always eradicated by the disgusting salty semen which stayed in her mouth for hours afterwards. It was horrible, but what made it worse was how the other students kept asking her what it was like and Petronella was even so bold as to whisper to her to keep a little on her tongue and then later, when they were relaxing, she would kiss her deeply so that she too could receive a harbinger of the “joys awaiting her with marriage”.

The French kissing was another aspect of her training and, to be honest, was the most pleasant of all. In her heart of hearts, Claudine – well, Suzie – had always quite liked women as much as men, and now, as part of her training to satisfy Doctor Potter after marriage, she was made to practise her kissing techniques with the other students. Every afternoon, their gags were removed, and she was made to lean into Petronella, Henrietta or Clarissa (Carmelita had got married and left while Claudine had been at the good doctor’s home and these two newcomers were her fellow students now) and let their tongues explore each other’s mouths. It was a heavenly feeling, particularly with the young Clarissa whom Claudine found she was developing a bit of a crush on, but alas, while it aroused and excited her, her restrained arms and locked away sex meant that no release was possible and so she went to bed every night her head filled with visions of lesbian lust and no way of alleviating it. It was like being taken to the swimming pool every day but never being allowed to dive in.

But diving she soon would be, for the days ticked by and, a month after she returned to Madam Rossiter’s, Claudine found herself released from her sleeping sack at the ungodly hour of five. She was thoroughly showered and shaved down below before then beginning the slow process of dressing her for her nuptials. The stays could not be laced down to the agonising size of 45cm in one go and so it was done in stages, each one causing her to faint right away. Whilst that was happening, her feet were laced into beautiful but precariously white-leather, knee-high en-pointe boots while her arms were twisted into the now too-familiar reverse prayer configuration. Eventually, her enormous new breasts surging up and down for air, her tottering about, shifting her weight from one tortured set of toes to the other, the vast white gown was lowered over her, her curls reset for a final time and then veil after veil pulled down over her face until finally, blinded completely and entirely helpless, she was led away to church to become Mrs. David Potter.

Epilogue

Six months later

Dave Potter watches on the video screen as his wife is prepared for their nightly congress. He outlined to her on their first day that he wishes to use her as a pleasure wife first before letting her become a breeding wife as he is in no rush to have children and they should both enjoy their youth whilst they still have it. Certainly, he is enjoying it, although for her, he is less certain.

He instructed the maid that he wished to use her bottom this evening. Her wonderfully large and peachy buttocks were what very first attracted him to her at that party at Dovegate Financial Services almost a year earlier. He’d always had a thing for a bubble butt and Suzie Updike had one to die for. He’d sworn then that he would have her and had been most put out when she’d rejected him.

Dave had been an aficionado of the Lady of Leisure ideal for almost ten years, after having read stories about it on the internet. He’d assumed them to all be fiction but then had received an anonymous email one day talking about an exclusive secret society of rich men that aims to make the ideal a reality. The email included links to pictures and videos of ladies living – or being forced to live – the Lady of Leisure ideal. He was curious and wished to learn more and so replied. Around a week later a meeting was set up with William Mogg, one of the elders of the society who explained more. He stated that they had been formed some ten years before after several gentlemen had declared – and explored – their fantasies over brandy one evening. Initial test subjects (Romanian apparently) had been procured from the black market and, after some success, the Society for the Advancement of the Lady of Leisure Ideal had been established. They had then purchased a large swathe of land on New Zealand’s South Island and there they had proceeded to gather their ladies of leisure in a utopian community named Deportment. Dave had joined the society straightaway but had visited Deportment frequently but had never seriously considered forcing one of his own girlfriends into the Lady of Leisure ideal. But then when Suzie Updike had rejected him then he knew that it was time for his fantasies to be realised.

He’d invented the alternative reality/ amnesia thing out of a sense of playful cruelty, even though it wasn’t easy to achieve (erasing that ankle tattoo had taken an expert several weeks). He knew that she would be suffering, doubting her own sanity and longing for what she had lost yet could never prove had existed, but then that was only right and proper. After all, she had rejected him and so deserved to suffer. He’d watched with glee as the haughty HR ice queen had been reduced to an ornamental doll and then lavished every moment when she lived in his house and he pumped all her food full of strong aphrodisiacs and yet allowed her no sexual release. It was little wonder that she’d agreed to marriage with a man she had recently hated and sentenced herself to a lifetime as a restrained Victorian doll. Then he had let his imagination run wild. He’d fallen in love with Suzie Updike but now he could create something even better, an idealised version of her with a prettier name, more kissable lips and far, far, far superior breasts that acted as his pillow on all those nights when he wasn’t using her magnificent buttocks for the same purpose. Indeed, the only thing that had not needed altering at all was that wonderful arse but even that he improved, ordering it to be filled permanently with a little ivory plug decorated with a diamond on the end that twinkled at him whenever he gazed upon it. Indeed, the only time it was ever removed was when that arse was being prepared to be plundered… like now.

Dave knew that she hated the anal sex; that she found it humiliating and unsatisfying. But he also knew that she had come to accept that she was merely his accessory these days with no mind of her own and no say over her life. She had reached a kind of impasse now, an acceptance and resignation and so Dave was thinking about upping the ante, perhaps leaving a photograph from that other reality lying around or making a comment that could hint that he knew the truth too. That would bring back the mental torment and doubts. If done carefully, it could be exquisite.

He watched as the maid supported her wonderfully corseted waist of 45cm by stacking pillows beneath it so that her beautiful bottom was on full display whilst her breasts ballooned below her, squashing themselves against the bed. The camera also picked up her groans, made from behind her mouth gagged with the words ‘Property of Doctor David Potter’ that she herself had embroidered straight after their marriage. It was a delightful scene and he was ready to make the most of it. He got up from his seat and made his way happily to the marital bedchamber.

FINIS

Copyright © 2019, Dave Potter

Die thrakische Göttin

Die thrakische Göttin

von Dave Potter

English version: The Thracian Goddess

Diana Filkova seufzte. Nicht mehr lange muss sie es ertragen und alles wird in Ordnung sein.

Sie lebte mit ihrem Partner, dem zwanzig Jahre älteren Senior Mark Vogel zusammen. Sie sind seit zwei Jahren ein Paar, seit sie ihn bei einem von ihrer Universität organisierten Empfang für angehende Historiker getroffen hatte. Zu dieser Zeit war sie auf der Suche nach einem Sommerpraktikum und es hatte einfach bei ihnen geklickt. Er war attraktiv, lustig, charmant und von absolut einladendem Wesen. Auch bot er ihr einen Job an.

“Ich bin Techniker, aber ich habe schon lange eine Leidenschaft für Geschichte. Ich lebe auf der griechischen Insel Draxos und sponsere dort die Ausgrabung einer altgriechischen Tempelanlage. Du scheinst genau die Art von Mädchen zu sein, die wir vor Ort gebrauchen könnten. Bist du interessiert?”

Interessiert? Natürlich war sie das! Den Lohn, den er ihr anbot, war exorbitant im Vergleich zu dem, was sie in Bulgarien bekommen konnte, und diese Anstellung würde ihren Lebenslauf verbessern und ihre Karrierchancen vergolden. Also nahm sie an und unterschrieb beim Abendessen. An diesem Abend unterschrieb sie leichtsinnig auch noch eine ganze Menge mehr.

Sie liebte Mark natürlich nicht. Er war alt genug, um ihr Vater zu sein! Aber er war in Ordnung, es war mit ihm auszukommen, extrem großzügig mit seinem Geld und sie hatte keinen Freund, wie er es war. Außerdem lebte er in einer riesigen, luxuriösen Villa auf einer Privat-Insel direkt vor der Küste von Draxos, mit einer kompletten Spa-Einrichtung, einem Swimmingpool und Terrasse mit herrlichem Blick auf die Ägäis.

Ihr Plan war einfach: Bei ihm bleiben, bis sie die Uni beendet hatte, alle Geschenke und Geld,das er ihr gab, sammeln und dann, wenn sie ihren Abschluss gemacht hatte, alles zu verwenden, um für ihren MA zu bezahlen,den sie sich sonst nie hätte leisten können.

Sie hatte sich im September zum MA angemeldet. Nicht, dass sie es Mark gesagt hätte; schließlich, warum die Feiertage allein verbringen? Nein, sie würde ihm nächste Woche eine Notiz hinterlassen, nachdem sie ihn verlassen hatte.

Nur manchmal wünschte sie sich, dass die Tage viel schneller voranschreiten würden. Er fing an, sie zu langweilen, und seine Tatzen an ihrem Körper im Bett waren nur noch lästig. Außerdem konnte er manchmal ganz besessen von einer Idee werden, wie zum Beispiel heute. Er hatte darauf bestanden, dass sie nach Athen fliegen, um einzukaufen. Aber es war nicht die Art von Shopping, die sie genoss, sondern es ging um den Kauf von Haushaltsdekorationen. Gähn! Dennoch müssen wohl seine Bedürfnisse berücksichtigt werden.

Als sie in der Stadt ankamen, nahmen sie ein Taxi zum Studio eines Giorgos Hatziastros, einem Töpfer von Rang, der anscheinend ein Freund von Markus war.

“Er hat in der Vergangenheit für mich gearbeitet und es war immer auf höchstem Niveau”, sagte Mark. Diana schaute gelangweilt aus dem Fenster.

Im Studio begrüßten sich die beiden Männer wie lange vermisste Brüder. Mark stellte dann Diana vor und machte zu ihrer Überraschung eine Ankündigung:

“Ich möchte meinem Liebling etwas ganz Besonderes kaufen, nicht nur das übliche Schmuckstück, sondern etwas von künstlerischem und finanziellem Wert, um unsere tiefe Liebe zueinander zu symbolisieren. Sie bildet sich zur Archäologin aus und so dachte ich mir, warum soll nicht Giorgos ihr einem einzigartigen, personalisierten Topf in der altgriechischen Tradition machen?”

Bei diesen Worten schmolz Dianas Herz. Bei der Antwort von Giorgos ging es fast in den Overdrive.

“Das ist in Ordnung, natürlich mein Freund, aber sie sind nicht billig. Mein altgriechisches Werk beginnt bei 10.000 Euro pro Stück.”

10.000 Euro! Das waren die gesamten Kosten für die MA!

“Der Preis ist kein Faktor, sondern nur die Qualität. Wie du sehen kannst, ist sie meine griechische Göttin und warum also nicht eine griechische Vase aus ihr machen.”

“Vergib mir, dass ich dir widersprochen habe”, sagte Giorgos, “aber ich spüre, dass die junge Dame keine Griechin ist. Vielleicht auf dem Balkan, aber griechisch, nein.”

“Das stimmt, ich bin Bulgarin aus Plovdiv.”

“Dann darf ich einen Vorschlag machen. Da die Dame keine Griechin ist, ist vielleicht eine griechische Vase unangebracht, aber Sie sind Bulgarin, ja, und die Bulgaren sind die Nachkommen, sagen einige, der alten Thraker, ein ebenso zivilisiertes Volk. Warum also nicht stattdessen ein Design im thrakischen Stil ausprobieren?”

Diese Worte veranlassten Diana, diesen Mann umso mehr zu mögen. Die meisten Griechen verachten ihre nördlichen Nachbarn, aber er sah ihren alten Ruhm und ihre gegenwärtige Armut.

“Das wäre wunderbar!” antwortete sie.

Sie betrachteten einige Entwürfe und arbeiteten etwas aus, basierend auf einem Topfdesign aus schwarz bemalter Keramik mit Blattgoldmotiven. Diese erzählten die Geschichte eines alten thrakischen Königs, aber Giorgos schlug vor, sie in die Geschichte der Zauberin “Thrakien” zu verwandeln, der Gründerin der alten Zivilisation, die als Tochter des Ozeans und Schwester Europas gilt.

“Und wir werden ihr dein Gesicht geben, damit du wirklich wie eine mythische Göttin aussiehst, die das Herz meines Freundes mit ihrem Zauber verzaubert hat”, fügte der Töpfer hinzu.

Nach dem Besuch beim Töpfer brachte Mark sie dann zu einem angesehenen Schneider, der ein ganz besonderes Outfit für sie anfertigte, zeitgenössisch, aber auf der Grundlage alter thrakischer Mode, alles fließende Kleider, die sich auf ihrer Haut prächtig anfühlten. Dann brachte er sie zum größten Haarstylisten der Stadt, der ihr Haar – vorher ein einfacher Pferdeschwanz – wie das einer thrakischen Adligen herrichtete.

 So, wie eine Göttin aussehend, wie Mark glaubte, dinierten sie in einem feinen Restaurant, bevor sie sich für einen Liebeskuss in ihr Fünf-Sterne-Hotel zurückzogen. Obwohl Mark im Bett langweilig war, weil er sich ein wenig schuldig für die bevorstehende Täuschung fühlte, ließ Diana ihn mit ihr tun, was immer er wollte. In dieser Nacht schien er sich übermäßig viel Zeit zu nehmen, um ihre Beine zu streicheln und ihren wohlgeformten Arsch zu streicheln.

Und als sie mit dem Liebesspiel fertig waren, bestellten sie Wein, und nachdem sie ihr Glas ausgetrunken hatte, fiel Diana in einen tiefen, zufriedenen Schlaf.


Als sie erwachte, wusste Diana, dass etwas nicht stimmte. Sie öffnete die Augen, aber es kam kein Licht herein. Nicht einmal ein Spalt. Und als sie versuchte, sich zu bewegen, reagierte ihr Körper irgendwie nicht. Sie wollte schreien, aber sie erkannte, dass etwas – es fühlte sich an wie eine Art Stange – in ihrem Mund steckte, und alles, was herauskam, war eine mmphf. Langsam gewann die Angst die Oberhand.

Dann, aus der Dunkelheit heraus, kam eine beruhigende Stimme. “Guten Morgen, Liebling. Ich hoffe, du hast gut geschlafen.”

Es war Mark. Sie stöhnte wieder und er sprach noch einmal. “Du versuchst zu sprechen, oder? Nun, das ist jetzt nicht möglich, da du einen Knebel im Mund hast. Ich werde ihn bald entfernen, aber zuerst lasse ich dich an einen besseren Ort bringen.

Und sie fühlte, wie sie sich bewegte. Ihr Körper, der völlig reaktionslos war, wurde angehoben und getragen. Doch sie fühlte nicht, dass irgendwelche Hände sie berührten. Es war seltsam. Tatsächlich fühlte sie sich irgendwie eingeschlossen. Aber nicht alles von ihr. Sie konnte den Wind auf ihrem Gesicht, ihren Brüsten und ihrem Geschlechtsteil spüren. Der Rest wurde jedoch irgendwie bedeckt.

Sie wurde hingestellt und sie fühlte, wie Mark sich ihr näherte. Er küsste sie leicht auf ihre Stirn und tat dann etwas an ihren Augen. Sofort kam Licht herein. Sie blinzelte und ihre Augen stellten sich darauf ein. Sie saß auf dem Balkon ihres Hauses in Draxos, auf dem sie auf das blaue Wasser der Ägäis blickte. Es war keine Wolke in Sicht und in der Ferne konnte sie das weiße Dreieck des Segels einer Yacht erkennen.

“Die Ursache für deine Blindheit waren dies”, sagte Mark. Er hielt ein Paar Kontaktlinsen in der Handfläche. Sie waren total schwarz. Jeder, der sie trägt wäre blind . Aber wozu….?

“Ich habe ein paar Änderungen vorgenommen”, sagte er lächelnd. Und dann drehte er sie um, um sie vor einen Spiegel in voller Länge zu stellen. Was sie sah, betäubte sie fast. Noch immer lächelnd, nahm er ihr den Knebel aus dem Mund, der sich als groß und penisförmig erwies.

“Was zum Teufel hast du mit mir gemacht?”, schrie sie.

“Ich habe dir eine Brustvergrößerungspendiert, wie versprochen”, antwortete er.

Mark erinnerte sie an die von ihr erwähnte Brustkorrektur. Diana mochte ihre Titten, aber sie waren ziemlich klein und ein wenig schlaff. Doch jetzt waren sie zwei pralle Kugeln, die auf ihrer Brust ragten. Oder zumindest, von dort, wo ihre Brust hätte sein sollen.

Oh ja, die Brustvergrößerung war das geringste ihrer Probleme.

Sie war in dem Topf, den sie in Auftrag gegeben hatten. Ja, das ist richtig: Eingehüllt in diese Vase, ihr Kopf ragte aus der Oberseite und ihre Brüste drückten sich aus zwei Fenstern auf der Vorderseite, während es darunter ein weiteres, kleineres Fenster gab, durch das ihre entblößte Muschi und ihr Anus zu sehen waren.

“Ich habe die Brüste machen lassen, nachdem du eingelocht wurdest. Ich denke, sie sehen besser aus als je zuvor, obwohl es mir leid tut, wenn die Passform jetzt ein wenig eng sein sollte”, fuhr Mark fort und sprach weiterhin über ihre gewaltigen Titten.

“Vergiss meine Brüste! Was hast du mit dem Rest von mir gemacht? Warum kann ich meine Arme und Beine nicht fühlen oder bewegen?”

“Oh, weil sie nicht mehr da sind. Sie waren die ersten Dinge, die der Chirurg entfernt hat. Dann schnitt er dich auf und entfernte die nicht vitalen Organe und alle deine Knochen außer der Wirbelsäule. Deine gesamte Körpergröße ist jetzt mit deinem Kopf vergleichbar, so dass du dich schön eng in deinen Topf einfügen kannst. Gefällt es dir, wie es geworden ist? Giorgos hat gute Arbeit geleistet, nicht wahr?”

Diana stand unter Schock. “Aber… warum? Warum bin ich in einem Topf?”

“Weil ich glaube, dass Frauen in ihnen hübscher aussehen. Außerdem ist es viel unwahrscheinlicher, dass Topfmädchen ihre zukünftigen Ehepartner verlassen.” Er sah sie ernst an. “Ich kenne deine Pläne und Absichten. Ich war dein Sugar-Daddy, nützlich, um für deinen bevorstehenden MA zu bezahlen. Nicht, dass du das jetzt noch schaffen würdest; denn was nützt eine Archäologin ohne Gliedmaßen? Nein, ich hätte dich nie eingetopft, wenn du mir treu geblieben wärst. Aber komm schon, Diana, hast du wirklich geglaubt, dass ein Typ, der in der Technik arbeitet, sich nicht in deine E-Mails und sozialen Medien hackt?”

“Wie kannst du es wagen! Ich werde….”

“Du wirst ruhig bleiben”, antwortete er und setzte ihr den Knebel wieder ein. Es gab absolut nichts, was sie tun konnte, um ihn aufzuhalten. Dann nahm er zu ihrem Entsetzen die Kontaktlinsen wieder auf und setzte sie ihr wieder ein. Ihre Welt tauchte in Schwärze. Zum Schweigen gebracht, geblendet und unbeweglich. Es war wie ihr Abstieg in die Hölle.

“Lass mich dir sagen, wie das funktioniert”, fuhr Marks Stimme fort. “Du bist jetzt mein Potgirl, meine thrakische Göttin. Du musst hier für den Rest deiner Tage leben und deine Zeit in entspanntem Luxus auf dem Balkon oder in einem Zimmer verbringen. Du wirst von deinem Dienstmädchen versorgt werden. Ein großer Vorteil des heutigen Lebens in Griechenland ist der stetige Zustrom illegaler Einwanderer. Das Mädchen, das ich für dich habe, ist Sudanese. Sie spricht kein Wort Englisch und kann nicht weglaufen. Sie wird sich um deine Bedürfnisse kümmern, außer um die wichtigsten….”

Er schwieg und sie fühlte, wie sein Finger über ihre Brustwarzen streichten und dann ihren Kitzler berührte. Sie erschauderte vor Entsetzen und Freude. “Nämlich deine sexuellen Bedürfnisse. Du bist immer noch meine Freundin, wir haben uns nie getrennt. Ich werde weiterhin dein Partner sein und dir vielleicht eines Tages sogar meine Hand für die Ehe reichen. Wir könnten sogar Kinder haben, weil ich deine Eier gerettet habe; alles, was wir brauchen, ist ein williger Ersatz und, wie gesagt, ein stetiger Strom von Migranten…. Aber du musst bei all dem bereit sein. Ich werde mich dir nie aufdrängen, noch werde ich missbräuchliche Sprache oder Verhaltensweisen von dir ertragen. Deshalb bist du jetzt geknebelt und geblendet. Wenn du dich schlecht benimmst, wirst du das eine oder andere ertragen müssen. Wenn du in meine Zunge beißt, wenn wir uns küssen, oder in meinen Schwanz, wenn du mir einen Blowjob gibst, dann werden die Linsen für Monate drin sein, Ohrstöpsel auch. Aber benimm dich, paar dich mit mir, unterhalte dich mit mir, und du wirst belohnt werden und nicht nur mit Sex. Es kann hier draußen auf dieser Insel ziemlich einsam werden, aber ich habe Freunde mit Partnern, Potgirls wie du. Tatsächlich wünscht Giorgos verzweifelt seine Frau Melissa mitzunehmen. Das kann deine erste Belohnung für gutes Verhalten sein. Denkt darüber nach, meine thrakische Göttin.”

Und mit diesen Worten ließ er sie dort zurück, leere Augen, die ins nichts starrten, Mund geknebelt, sie war jetzt nichts weiter als eine elegante Haushaltsdekoration in der Luxusvilla von Mark Vogel.

Als seine Schritte in der Ferne verklangen, erkannte Diana, dass sie viel Zeit zum nachdenken hatte, um sich anzupassen. Dicke Tränen fielen von ihren Augen über ihren Topf. Sie liefen wie Regentropfen über die glänzende Oberfläche, bis sie auf ihren hervorstehenden Brüsten trockneten.

A Different Reality: Part 1

A Different Reality

by Dave Potter

Chapter 1

Darkness. Pitch-black. That was all there was when she woke up. She opened her eyes, but no light streamed in. she tried to move but found that she was restrained somehow. All over. Her body seemed encased somehow, squeezing in on all sides. Something was seriously wrong. She screamed but only a groan came out. There was something lodged in her mouth. She screamed again and tried to move. She could wiggle about a bit but that was all. It was as if she had been buried alive. Had she been buried alive? No! She could not die here, now! She was young, with her whole life ahead of her. She screamed and wiggled again. She carried on doing it for dear life. And then, out of the black, light streamed in and she was reborn.

“Miss Suzanna, what are you doing screaming and creating a disturbance like that. It is most unladylike. Madam will be displeased.”

Suzanna. Who on earth called her Suzanna? She hadn’t been called that since she was a child by her great aunt. Normally it was Suzie or just Suze. Suzanna. She didn’t recognise the voice either. As her eyes adjusted to the light she saw a figure leaning over her. She was dressed in a maid’s outfit and she didn’t recognise her at all. But she was smiling, and she laid a cool flannel on Suzie’s forehead. “Now, now, Miss Suzanna, did you have a bad dream…?”

The maid released her from the cocoon that had enclosed her. Looking down, she saw that she had been tightly laced into a large, black leather bag the size of a slumbering human. Her body was covered in sweat from her confinement, but that was not all. A large gag was stuffed into her mouth and a white cotton shift covered her body. Around her middle, squeezing her tightly, was a corset. A corset?! WTF??!!

When her hands were free she fumbled at the gag that was filling her mouth. Seeing her desire, the maid helped. When it was removed her jaw ached from being forced open wide so long. Her throat was dry but she spoke anyway. “Where am I? What is happening?”

“You’re in your bed at home at Madam Rossiter’s Academy, Miss Updike,” replied the maid.

“You know my name? Who are you? How do you know me? What’s happening? What is this place?” Her eyes darted wildly from side to side. The maid, however, merely looked on her with concern and pity.

“Oh dear, Miss Suzanna, I fear the events of last evening may have left a damaging effect on your mind. I must inform Madam Rossiter. She may have to call for Doctor Lowe.”

“What do you mean, the events of last evening?”

But the maid was gone, leaving her all alone and confused.


She returned with another figure. It was a middle-aged woman dressed in a large, frilly, Victorian-style dress with ridiculously large puff sleeves all in a deep red. She had a stern look on her face and came straight up to the confused Suzie who was sitting on the bed still in a daze.

“The servant tells me that you seem to be somewhat disorientated Miss Suzanna. Please, I do not have the time for this sort of immature joking about and I shall punish you…”

“Who are you?”

“What?”

“Who are you and what am I doing here? I need to return… home. I need to go home; I have things to do and…”

“I told you ma’am, she’s all confused and befuddled and…”

“Yes, yes, Sykes, I can see that. Now, let me handle this. Miss Suzanna, do you honestly not know who I am?”

“Of course not. I’ve never seen you before in my life. How do you know my name anyway…?”

“Miss Suzanna, I am Madam Rossiter, your teacher…”

“Teacher? Whoever you are, I am twenty-five and certainly not at school anymore. I am a businesswoman, not a student and I have things to do, I…”

“Twenty-five? Miss Suzanna, last night was your twenty-first birthday. It was also the night when Lord Roehampton proposed to you. Surely you must recall Lord Roehampton…?”

“Are you mad? My life is not like some episode of Pride & Prejudice. I don’t know any lords and nor has anyone proposed to me of late.” She stopped herself. Actually, there was one guy who would have done; he was besotted with her, but she’d given him the boot a month back. “I don’t have time for this, get me out of here, wherever the fuck it is and back to…”

“Miss Suzanna, your language!”

“Get me home, bitch! Is that language enough for you?!”

“But Miss Suzanna, you are home! This school is your home these days.”

“And you’re mad as a hatter. How can this be my home? I’m a twenty-five-year-old HR executive, not Elizabeth bloody Bennett.”

“Miss Suzanna, desist! I have no idea who this Miss Bennett is that you refer to, but I do know that, judging by the current evidence, if anyone around here is mad, it is not me but you. Think about it! You are lying in your bed in my establishment where you were put to sleep by your maid last night, wearing the clothing that I provided, as you have done for the previous two years. You suffered a shock last night, that much I grant you and it has obviously unbalanced your mind, but one thing is clear is that, if madness is to be blamed, which individual would you point the finger at as being the victim?”

And, sitting there on that bed surrounded by all these extras from an Austen drama, wearing a corset herself, she could not find a suitable answer.

 

Chapter 2

Her name is Miss Suzanna Updike and she is twenty-one years old. She is currently living in Madam Rossiter’s Academy for Orphaned Young Ladies. She is an orphan because her parents died five years ago in an horrific house fire. That bit she really struggled to believe but then they showed her photographs to prove it.

Being of prime marital age and still a virgin (again, this was proved to her in a humiliating test performed by Doctor Lowe), she is a ripe candidate for marriage. Prior to the evening before the morning when she woke up having completely lost her memory, she had been courting a certain Lord Roehampton. At a soiree arranged in honour of her birthday by the academy, he had proposed to her. She had neither accepted nor rejected the proposal, seemingly overwhelmed by it. Madam Rossiter had taken her to one side and strongly urged her to accept since Lord Roehampton, despite his advanced years, was an excellent match and was extremely wealthy. She had never shown any enthusiasm towards his romantic advances but, conversely, had never been the rebellious type either so, silently, she had acquiesced. This had pleased His Lordship immensely and so he had removed her gag to kiss her passionately, an experience which, according to Petronella, one of the other orphans, she had endured passively. Then, His Lordship, emboldened by achieving his dream, had brought out a document that he had had made. It detailed all the modifications that he would be blessing her with after marriage and included computer-generated images of her future look. Apparently, even according to Madam Rossiter, these were “a trifle extreme” and, upon seeing the pictures of her form blessed with enormous lips and breasts three times larger than her head, she had flipped, shouted and screamed at her fiancé in a most unladylike way and then attempted to run away from the party – an impossibility, of course, in her fashionable attire – and so, having failed in that course of action, had fainted on the spot. Horrified and appalled, Lord Roehampton had declared the engagement terminated despite Madam Rossiter’s finest efforts and so, when she did come around with the help of smelling salts, Miss Suzanna was bundled off to bed straightaway, her night and prospects ruined by her unladylike behaviour. It simply couldn’t get worse.

Except that it did. Because in the morning she woke up with no recollection of her life. The mental stress had erased her brain.

That, on its own, was bad enough, but for Suzie, it got worse. What was most painful was that, instead of her life being a blank slate, ready to be refilled by her teacher and companions, instead she had very vivid memories of a totally different life entirely. In that reality, she also Suzanna Updike, but she was twenty-five instead of twenty-two and she was no virgin. Nor too was she an orphan or a student in some weird ladies’ academy, but instead she was the HR manager in a financial company of some reputation. She was an intelligent, independent and resourceful young woman who, being blessed with good looks (although she had always been a tad embarrassed about her large bottom) had no shortage of male admirers. Admirers that she usually batted away disinterestedly.

How come these “memories” of a life that, according to all those around her and the evidence that was laid before her, never existed, filled her head? And not just that; they were so vivid and real. She could not believe that they were false and so, instead, merely thought that they had kidnapped her somehow and were lying to her to make her accept this new reality. Yet whenever she’d thought of something that would prove the truth of her memories, she was defeated. Like when she remembered the tattoo that she’d had done on her left-hand ankle. Madam Rossiter assured her that a real lady would never dream of having something so uncouth as a tattoo, so they rolled down her stocking to reveal the ankle and, lo and behold, there was no tattoo nor trace of there ever being one.

Yet the memories seemed so real and while they filled her head, adjusting was almost impossible. The problem was that in the reality she thought she’d inhabited, she had been a working woman, independent financially, mentally and physically. In this weird world she now found herself in though, all those freedoms had gone, and, in their place, she found herself as dependent on others as a young child.

To start with, she had no money whatsoever. Ok, so that was a lie. She actually possessed millions, left to her by her late parents as their only child. But being a female, she was deemed to be irresponsible and so the funds were held in a trust administered by Doctor Lowe on behalf of Madam Rossiter. They were used to pay for her schooling and purchase items of clothing decreed by her teacher. Suzie herself had no say in any of it.

And then mentally. She was continually told that, as a young lady, her mind was easily confused, easily led, unstable. Every day she faced a barrage of propaganda regarding ladylike behaviour and the appropriate conduct of a wife. She had little opportunity to contest it and no opportunity to get away.

For the third of her limitations, the physical, was the most trying of all. In Madam Rossiter’s Academy, she was being trained to become was called a ‘Lady of Leisure’, a lady of importance who trumpets her station by being physically restrained at all times and thus largely helpless and dependent on others, namely servants.

Sitting on the couch, Suzie takes stock of all those restrictions currently curtailing her body. She is dressed in a beautiful Victorian-style gown of cream silk printed with a pattern of tiny red roses. With some fifteen petticoats supporting the wide skirts, that alone is restrictive enough, but by far its most noticeable aspect is the tiny waist, achieved by twenty-four-hour corseting or “tight-lacing” as Madam Rossiter refers to it. What this means is that she is always short of breath, always feeling weak and light-headed, never hungry and always, always aware of the crushing presence around her middle.

Subconsciously, Suzie tries to move her hands to her middle to try and relieve some of that awful pressure, but then is sharply reminded of how impossible this now is. Her gown, like that of Madam Rossiter and all ladies of fashion, incorporates two ridiculous ballooning puff sleeves (called ‘gigot’ apparently), out of which the lower part of her arms and hands – gloved in appropriate cream leather of course – protrude. The sleeves actually have an internal steel framework construction to achieve the ballooning look, but that is not the worst of them for in fact, the gloved hands that protrude from them are not her real hands at all, but instead handmade wooden replicas! Instead, to trumpet her helplessness, her real arms and hands are folded up inside the sleeves, hand-to-shoulder, elbows firmly bent, making them entirely useless. When her maid first tried to do this to her, shocked, she rebelled, but help was procured, and she was restrained. Wearing such an arrangement, she is almost entirely helpless, having to be fed her meals like a baby and being unable to do such simple tasks as open a door or even stand unaided (for wearing such encumbering clothes, one would need some support). Instead, for this active and independent woman to do anything, absolutely anything, she has to call on her maid for support.

Except that even that is impossible now, for lodged in her mouth and buckled firmly behind her head is a large gag fronted by a panel on which, in pretty embroidery, it says ‘Silence is golden’. At most all she can do is grunt and groan, but since that is frowned upon in this insane place, instead Suzie just stays silent and still, fearing the punishment that may come from breaking one of the myriad and ridiculous rules that plague this place.

Nor are the arm restraints, the corset and the gag the only restraints that this lady of leisure is forced to endure. Her feet have been forced into a ridiculous pair of white leather boots with heels of ten centimetres and her stocking-covered ankles are linked by a sturdy chain of twenty centimetres “to ensure ladylike gait”. No one can see these of course, nor can they see the most humiliating item of her attire. This is not a restraint but instead a large adult nappy. She only wears it as a precaution: when she has to go, undressing for the toilet is no speedy process and being gagged and trammelled, if there is no servant present, she often struggles to make her needs known. Thus far, it has not been necessary, but the mere thought of a free-willed and independent young businesswoman (for in her mind, she still views herself thus, even though she knows the memories cannot be real) having to wear attire designed for infants or geriatrics, is humiliating to the core of her being.

She glances across at her companions, Petronella and Carmelita and then at the clock. It is ten to three. At three the maids will come and take them all away. In the sanctity of their bedrooms they will be offered the opportunity to use the toilet (Suzie never refuses for fear of having to actually utilise those adult nappies) and then their arms are unbound and the gloved, real appendages are fed into the dress sleeves. With the ridiculous gigot, brachial movement is still extremely limited, but the two hours between three and five, providing there are no visitors, are reserved for “ladylike crafts”. In practice, this means embroidering things, so far gags. She is given a gag with a front panel which she is then expected to embroider in accordance with the instructions propped up on a stand before her. Sometimes it is a pattern, sometimes a picture such as roses or foiliage, but more often than not it is a phrase. The one in her mouth at present says ‘Silence is golden’ and she has embroidered that on a couple of gags already, it being by far the most popular. But there are others. Sometimes it is ‘Property of…’ and then a name. Always a man’s name. Many husbands like their wives to wear such a gag. But there has also been ‘Females should be seen and not heard’, ‘God blesses a quiet house’ or perhaps the Biblical ‘Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak’. It is humiliating in a way, but far less dull that merely sitting there silent and helpless.

And at the academy one is always silent or helpless or both. Usually both, but, for an hour before bed she is allowed to converse with her fellow students. Her arms are restrained for this of course (after all, they are not needed), this time not in the gigot sleeves but instead a single glove that fastens them behind the back, palm-to-palm. It is painful and totally demobilising but said to improve posture. Whatever. Trammelled thus, she can get to know her fellow sufferers, except that they, not being plagued by false memories, revel in their situation and feel great pity for those lowly women who go around broad-waisted, ungagged and with free arms. Their lives are narrow and dull; both have never left the town and look forward only to marriage and a chance to wear the latest fashions. Still, it breaks the monotony.

The door opens, and, to her surprise, Madam Rossiter enters. Suzie is surprised. She glances at the clock; still five minutes to three and, besides, their teacher never comes to change their attire. Why is she here? The mystery is soon revealed.

“Girls, I have news for you. Ladylike Crafts is cancelled for today as we have guests coming for dinner. Doctor Lowe is joining us, and he has invited Carmelita’s fiancé, Mr. Macauley, and his medical colleague, Doctor Potter, who has recently returned from a professional trip overseas. Therefore, you shall all be changing into your finest evening dresses to mark the occasion.”

Although sad that she wouldn’t get the opportunity to use her hands freely, Suzie was happy at this announcement. Visitors! Surely that should break the monotony a little!

Part 2

The Goddess Provides, Officially: Chapter 9 & Epilogue

Chapters 7-8

Seni_Pot_Cover

Chapter 9

Chaos reigned in the Ankhkhaf house! Meryetamun Ankhkhaf fainted, and from her daughter Heni’s mouth erupted an awful sound, something between a scream and a wail and, when she had done that, she lunged for her potted sister and had to be restrained by her father. Lord Nebet turned on his son and bellowed, “Hapu! I demand an explanation!” whilst Teo clapped her hands in glee and hugged her mistress.

It was a full ten minutes before things calmed down.

When they did, the talk was sober and serious.

“Hapu, it is not possible. She is a potgirl! You cannot marry a potgirl!”

“Why not, Father? Lots of men in noble families have potwives. Your own grandfather on your father’s side had two, as did Mother’s dad.”

“Yes, but that is different.They were potted after marriage, after childbirth. Senisonbe here has already undergone the procedure.”

And she is promised to the temple,” added Unasankh Ankhkhaf, “and that is a sacred vow that we cannot renege on.”

“And you both promised to honour my proposal if I made it.”

“To Hentmereb, Hapuneseb, I promised to honour your proposal to Hentmereb!”

“But sir, I never mentioned Hentmereb. I merely promised to propose to your daughter, Miss Ankhkhaf. That could be Heni or Seni.”

“He has a point, Unasankh,” said Lord Nebet, “although, promise or not, I cannot allow it. The fact is Hapu, you are our only child and the Nebets are an ancient and noble line. I require you to produce an heir and, charming though Miss Seni may be, she is clearly unable to do so. Therefore, I must veto this union on those grounds alone.”

“But Father, if that is your only objection, then you should have no fear! Miss Senisonbe could produce an heir for me. When we were talking, she explained that, as part of the potisation process, the eggs in her ovaries were removed and frozen for future fertilisation as, in the temple of Isis, the semen of the priests is matched with the eggs of the temple potgirls and surrogate mothers – young pious poor girls who want to attain favour with the goddess – birth them before giving them to the temple. They become the next generation of priests. So why not, instead of a priest, my seed could be used and, providing we can find a suitable surrogate, our children can be birthed?”

“I’ll act as a surrogate for my beloved mistress,” shouted out Teo, before remembering her place and shutting up again.

Hapu looked at his father as if to say, ‘Well then?’ and Lord Nebet shrugged. “If that is the case, then… then I have no objections. Potisation is an ancient and noble Egyptian custom and, if my son and the girl are happy, and if you too Unasankh, have no objections about marrying a daughter into the Nebet clan, then why should I stand in your way?”

“Lord Nebet, I am honoured to have a daughter be considered worthy to become a Nebet, but what of the Temple of Holy Isis? I made a sacred vow and that cannot be broken.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Unasankh; I know the head priest at that temple well and, between you and me, if we grease his palm enough, he’ll find a way around the vow. Indeed, I’ve heard of it before; if one daughter cannot make it for whatever reason, then they’re always happen to accept another.”

“Noooooo!!” cried Heni and her mother in unison, collapsing on the floor together.

But Unasankh Ankhkhaf was a changed man. He had a daughter marrying into the Nebet family, he could see the joy on her face, and he could still retain his pious standing in the temple. “Although I must admit that this is something of a surprise and unexpected turn of events, Hapuneseb Nebet, I accept your proposal to my daughter and, Senisonbe, I will allow you to wed.”


The torches flickered and the smell of frankincense wafted through the balmy night air. The sound of ululating womenfolk drew louder and louder until it stopped and a knock sounded on the great, carved door.

“Enter!” ordered Hapuneseb, heir to the noble and ancient house of Nebet.

The door opened and a pair of servants entered, carrying a veiled object on a silver tray between them. They laid it down on the carved wooden table at the end of the bed, bowed, and then departed, carefully closing the great wooden door behind them.

When they had gone, Hapuneseb walked over to the object and, carefully removed the embroidered piece of white silk that covered it.

In doing so he revealed a beautiful potgirl, with large chocolate-coloured eyes and the most captivating smile this side of the Sinai Desert.

Smiling, he bent down and carefully lifted her up and carried her into the bed itself. Then he removed his silken wedding robes to reveal his rampant member. Sitting down on the bed, he opened his legs wide and then picked up to potgirl and, lovingly kissed her on the lips. She reciprocated and groaned in bliss. Then, carefully, he positioned his tool over the aperture in the clay that revealed her womanly channel and said, “Seni, my darling wife, I love you with all my heart!”

“Officially?” she asked him with a grin in-between her panting.

“Officially,” he replied, before lowering himself deep within her.

Epilogue – Scenes from a Marriage

Hapu lay on the bed, his baby daughter cradled in his arms. Beside them stood his wife in her pot, the look in her eyes full of maternal bliss.

Nefertiry – or Nefi for short – had been born safely only three days before. Created from Seni’s egg fertilised with Hapu’s seed and then transferred inside the womb of Teo, she had enjoyed an easy birth and the hospital had given the all-clear for her to leave the premises and enter the family home. Teo was breastfeeding her and taking care of most of her needs just as a real mother would, although they made sure that the baby spent most of her time with her biological mother who happily sang her lullabies to help her sleep. In the meantime, a new maid had been hired to see to Seni’s needs to give the exhausted Teo a break.

After Nefi had drifted off, Hapu lifted his eyes to those of his beloved wife and smiled. She smiled back and then whispered, “Darling, we need to talk.”

“What is it?”

“What are we to do about Teo? She has done so much for us; how can we ever repay her?”

“She has not asked for any repayment and she tells me that she is perfectly happy.”

“She tells me the same, Hapu, but I know that she is lying. I am a woman after all. She has needs, we all do, and little Nefi here has awoken them.”

“Needs?”

“Sexual needs. Maternal needs. Like I said, she is a woman, and an attractive one at that.”

Hapu had noticed the same thing, of course, but he had wisely never mentioned it. It does not do to mention to your wife that you are transfixed by the shape of her maid’s arse, particularly when she does not have an arse of her own.

“She should marry then. She has had plenty of suitors and we would provide a suitable dowry.”

“She will not. I ordered her to and she refused. Our family took her in as a young girl; we played together as children, and she has made a vow dedicating her life to looking after me. She never agreed with me undergoing potisation; it really upset her, and she promised that she would always be by my side. I have told her that she should not feel beholden but she is stubborn. She will not marry, no matter who comes knocking.”

“Then there is nothing we can do.”

“But there is something, Hapu.”

“What?”

His wife looked at him, her eyes tracing every inch of the body that she loved so much, and she smiled. “You,” she whispered softly.

“Me?”

“You’re a man, and men, like women, have needs. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your eyes following her around the room, fixing on her bum or breasts. Like I said earlier, she’s an attractive woman, and men want an attractive woman to hold and caress.”

“Darling, there is only one woman in my life… or at least, there was until little Nefi here came along! And I love her because she has come from you. You, Seni, you are the one I love, with all my heart, the only one I have ever and will ever love.”

“I know that darling, but…”

“But nothing! If I’d have wanted a full-bodied girl to squeeze and caress then I’d have married your sister! You satisfy my needs, completely and totally. I need nobody else.”

“Hapu, you are many things, but a good liar is not one of them. Yes, you love me totally, I know that and always will; yes, you will always be mine. That is why I am comfortable suggesting such a thing! But that doesn’t mean that you don’t dream of a full-bodied girl from time to time. A breast to cup or buttock to stroke.”

“When I stroke the curves of your pot then I imagine…”

“Imagine no longer, Hapu, do not fantasise, live! Lie with Teo when she is ready again; satisfy her needs and give her a child. Reward her for her service to us and show her that you… we, care.”

“I couldn’t! I’d feel guilty, I’d… to go behind your back…”

“Hapu, I don’t have a back and, besides, you wouldn’t be. I would there too, in the bed with you both. Kissing your lips as you satisfied her.”

Hapu imagined the scene and, involuntarily, his member stiffened. Seni glanced down and smiled. “Do it for me, Hapu; that’s an order.”


For a number of months now, Hapu had noticed an uneasiness with his potwife whenever they talked or lay together. It was as if something was on her mind and so, one evening after congress, when she was lying alongside him in their bed, he asked her straight what it was that was bothering her.

“It is my sister. I feel guilty. She would never have had to undergo potisation if it weren’t for my actions and, I fear she must hate me for it. After all, she wanted to marry so much – or at least, to enjoy some of the benefits of marrying – and, whatever her faults, potisation is never easy. I want to speak with her and, if possible, to beg her forgiveness. She took the place in the temple that should have been mine and yet I know she was never of a religious bent. I fear that place is not suitable for her.”

“But you know that visiting temple potgirls is prohibited… if  I had known back then, not even family! No. Their job is to pray for us and to do that, they must be cut off from the world.”

“Yes, that is true, and I would never have asked before. But the fact is that their guardian can request to see them – I learned this when I was being prepared for temple life – and ever since Papa passed away so suddenly, then you became her guardian and thus can see her.”

“Even so, that is me, not you.”

“But we have money and even in Isis temples, I am sure that money can unlock some doors that otherwise would be closed, remember what your father did for mine. That temple receives a sizeable income from both the Ankhkhaf and Nebet families and they wouldn’t want to lose some of that.”

“Well, if it mean so much to you, darling, we shall go there on the morrow.”


And so, the very next morning, Hapu did carry his potwife up the steps to the esteemed Isis temple. And, once there, he requested a meeting with the high priest who, after initially refusing and stating that such a meeting would be “impossible”, then discovered, with the lubrication of a sizeable donation to the new wing that was currently being planned for a further forty potgirls, that there was in fact a loophole in the law that allowed a temple potgirl to meet with, not only their guardian but also other females so long as they too have undergone potisation.

Twenty minutes later, Heni was carried into the private chamber that the priest had found for them. There, before two smoking incense burners, she was carefully set down by the temple attendant who promptly left the three alone.

Heni looked far better than Seni had expected. She had worried about her sister being depressed and this showing in her face and demeanour. She had anticipated a torrent of abuse or even a refusal to meet with the woman and man who had caused her life to be transformed from that of a free, able-bodied young noblewoman, to an immobile, dependent religious ornament. However, to her surprise, Heni’s skin seemed to glow in the lamplight and her expression was a happy one.

“It is so good to see you sister and brother-in-law!” she exclaimed once the attendant had gone. “You really have left it too long! Please, give me a kiss.”

Hapu picked up his wife and carried her over, angling her pot so that the two sisters could embrace. Then, after putting her down again, he too kissed Heni and, to his surprise and shock, he found that as he did so, her tongue entered his mouth and explored it a little more than was proper. He withdrew and she winked at him.

“Not what you expected, eh?”

“Not quite,” replied Seni, who was both surprised and a little concerned. Had the temple sent her sister round the bend?

“You expected me to be cursing you – both of you – for putting me in here, and by that I mean in this pot and this place. You expected me to hate you, Hapu, for rejecting me and choosing her, whilst you, Seni, dearest sis, for condemning me to a life which, as you know better than anyone, is far from easy.”

“Heni, I never meant for you to be hurt, I…”

“Shhh, leave it. I bear you no ill will… either of you. True, I did find it hard, especially the potisation. Why would anyone ever want to have half their body chopped off and be entombed within a vase for the rest of their lives, unable to do the slightest thing for oneself? True, I have heard that there are some pretty messed up individuals who do want it, some sort of weird fetish or something, but, trust me, I was never one of them. Yeah, your names were mud for many weeks with me, and I was pretty low, let me tell you. I mean, my whole future had been taken from me and I was being transformed into some pious ornament whose only function is to pray endlessly until she leaves this world, after which she’ll be reborn in the next, just as helpless and miserable. However, after I arrived here, well, my outlook changed.”

“It did?” the couple said in tandem.

“Yeah, it did. This place wasn’t what I expected. In all honesty, I don’t think it would have suited you at all, Seni.”

“But I was always the more religious one of us.”

“Religion ain’t got nothing to do with it, sis.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“Look, which goddess is this temple dedicated to?”

“Isis, of course.”

“And what are her attributes?”

“Well, she’s the mother goddess, the sky goddess, fertility, magic, and miracles…”

“Precisely, fertility and magic. Which means, well, depending on how you translate it, that this place is the place to come for a bit of magic or a miracle. And how the priests translate that is, well, how priests translate these things everywhere: in the way that brings in the most profit for the temple.”

“Heni, how can you say such things? That’s blasphemous!”

“Seni, I’m a temple potgirl; I can say whatever the hell I want and I say them because I live here and I know what goes on. Before I came, I thought it would all be a lifetime of standing on a shelf and reciting prayers like you did in the shrine room for all those months. However, the reality is very different indeed.”

“In what way?”

“Isis enables miracles, right, through the medium of her potgirls. And fertility is all about sex, right again? So, how does this place make its money? Basically, men – and a few women – come here to copulate with the potgirls. We’re like a holy brothel. They pay a handsome sum and then take one of us into a chamber like this one – indeed, I was in this very room only yesterday with the High Judge – and they give us a damn good spiritual probing. Men love it; a lot seem to have a potgirl fetish, the helplessness of us appeals I suppose, and so there is no shortage of takers. Plus, with a temple potgirl, not only is there no risk of pregnancy, but it is also a blessing, not a sin. See a whore and the world judges; screw a temple potgirl and you receive great boons. And not only you, us too.”

“What are you saying? This is outrageous!”

“Seni, you prude, calm down! The fact is, I have always liked men. I longed to feel a penis inside me but all that stupid no sex before marriage crap prevented it. I was horny as hell, Hapu you remember. Now though, I get as much cock as I like, all the time! On average five times a day; at festival times it can be double or triple that. I get to be probed right in the spirit constantly and I absolutely love it. Rather than sitting around dreaming of it at home, today I am living it. Of course, I wish I still had arms and legs and that, some of these acolytes have no sense of rhythm, but one can’t have everything. The fact is Hapu, if we’re honest, me and you would never have worked; you were looking for true love; I’m just wanton. But you fucked up, you know, big boy, you fucked up big time.”

“How?”

“Well, if you’d have married me, then we could have screwed as often as we liked, full-bodied, which would have been something, and with Seni as a temple potgirl, you could have taken her as much as you wanted too. But this way, while you can still enjoy us both to your heart’s content (so long as you pay the temple fee, of course) it will only ever be as potgirls. You lose out; never mind.”

Seni was incredulous. “So, it’s all about sex. All you think about is sex?”

“Not all, darling sis. A lot, yes, but not all. The fact is that we’re a community here. Men are all well and good for fucking, but I wouldn’t want to have to live with them and talk to them all day long, particularly if it were just the one. But here, there are forty of us, and, every evening after closing, aside from the one that the high priest chooses, we are all placed in a circle where we can chat, share gossip and compare each other’s news. You get to find out a hell of a lot in here you know; all the rich and powerful come in. I bet you didn’t know that the Pharaoh has just forced his former favourite concubine Isetnofret – yes, the same one who turned him against Queen Merytaten-tasherit – to undergo potisation, because he suspected her of having an affair with one of his top generals. They weren’t, of course; the general was seeing another of his concubines though, but that is by the by. Old Isetnofret now sits on a shelf, her cunt locked off and inaccessible, next to the very queen she betrayed. Yes indeed, we find out everything and never go to sleep unsated. I hardly have time to pray…”

heni


When they had left and were back in their bedroom at home, Hapu looked at his potwife and said, “So, what do you make of all that?”

Seni smiled. “Not what I expected at all, but I’m glad she’s not angry with us. She seems happy, which is what matters.”

“I suppose so, although it is not what I anticipated either. Still, at least it sort-of brings a close to the tale of how we got together.”

“Yes, it does, and, because of that, I think we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate? How?”

“Fuck me like a temple potgirl, big boy! Fuck me like you’re going to get myriad blessings at the end of it!”

“But I already have, my darling, I already have,” he replied, laughing as he slipped his rigid member into her hopelessly exposed slit and met her lips with his own.

Seni_Pot_Hands

The Goddess Provides, Officially: Chapters 7-8

Seni_Pot_Cover

Chapters 5-6

Chapter 7

The following morning, Hapu arrived later than he usually did and then struggled to stay awake while Heni sat talking with him.

“What is it with you today?” she asked at last. “Am I really so boring that you need to close your eyes when I tell you about my new gown?”

“No, no,” said Hapu in-between yawns. “I don’t know what it is. I went to bed a little later than usual last night but maybe I’m coming down with something or it could be the weather. I always get tired easily when it is muggy like this.”

“Maybe. My sister couldn’t stay awake this morning at breakfast either. She said the same thing. However, she’s got an excuse; she’s a potgirl after all so her body is more sensitive to the temperature. You, on the other hand, should be more resilient.”

“Seni is tired too?”

“Yes, so you won’t be able to invite her to play Monopoly with us today and then side with her once again so that I lose.”

“To be honest, I don’t think I could stay awake for a whole game of Monopoly.”

“I know. Maybe I’m being too hard on you. Why don’t you put your head on my lap and have a little snooze… no, don’t resist, we’ll be married soon and we can do this every night…”


Hapu did actually doze off on Heni’s lap as she stroked his hair, the first act of real intimacy that he had allowed and one that had made her suspect that a proposal must surely be coming soon. When he woke up though, he made his excuses and returned home where he then slept for several hours, waking up as the sun was starting to set in the west. He then had several excruciating hours of waiting until the time when all the Ankhkhaf household retired, before dressing in black once again and making his way over the garden wall, across to the banana palm, up its trunk and in through the window. This time, when he came in, Seni was already wide awake, her dark eyes sparkling in the flickering candlelight. They did not kiss on the lips, only the forehead as friends should, although, once again, those kisses lingered far longer than was appropriate for a purely platonic relationship.

They fell into talking about Seni’s future in the temple. She told him about the training that she had received, that all potgirls were expected to memorise lengthy prayers and repeat them on behalf of the devotees who would come and leave generous donations for the priests. She told him about the room that she had visited where the potgirls lived, the ornately-carved stone shelf on which the vases with their human occupants stood. And as she spoke, tears welled in her eyes and she struggled to get her words out.

“Seni, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

“Oh Hapu,” she wept, “when I think of it… it is too terrible. I know that it is my fate, my destiny and a great, great honour, but I do not want to go there, I really don’t. To think of spending my life just standing on a shelf repeating prayers ad infinitum, with no friends, no family, no joy, no sunshine, no…”

She broke down completely and her head started to convulse as the tears flowed down her face. Without thinking, Hapu when over to her and hugged her tightly. “Don’t worry my dearest friend, it will be alright, I promise you, I’ll do something, I don’t know what but something…”

But she did not hear and instead merely cried in his arms, her tears wetting his shoulder as they soaked into his tunic.

Eventually, they dried up, the sniffling stopped and Seni whispered, “I’m alright now, truly I am. I just need to pray to the goddess more. Thank you, thank you so much, you’ve been a great help, you’re a wonderful friend, you truly are.”

Hapu stepped back and, taking out a handkerchief, wiped the tears from the young potgirl’s face. He smiled at her and she smiled back. And then, a look of absolute horror passed over her face.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

Seni darted her eyes to the right and he turned. No word of explanation was needed.


“I’ve been standing there for a full five minutes,” said Teo, Seni’s maid and dearest companion. “I couldn’t bear to break up your embrace, no matter how wrong it may be.”

“How did you know?” asked Seni. “You normally sleep at this time.”

“Hmm, let me think. Ever since he started coming to this house, there’s been a distinct change in you. A good one, it is true, but a change nonetheless. Before you were despondent and sad; now you seem full of the joys of spring. And then this morning you struggle to wake up and spend most of the day dozing, whilst he arrives at the door looking like the walking dead and spending half the day snoring on your sister’s lap? Then I realised what was going on. Then I knew that, despite your piety, what was causing the change in outlook was not excitement at your imminent entry into the temple when that trollope gets married.”

“Teo! I’ve told you before; she’s my sister! You shouldn’t say things like that!”

“A true sister would look after you and love you better, but she only cares about herself. You too young man, you Casanova! One Ankhkhaf daughter is not enough for you; you want to seduce both of them!”

“It’s not like that, I…”

“I know exactly what you are! I’ve heard of men like you; men with an obscene fascination for potgirls. Will you have the same done to her sister once you’ve wed her? Not that it’d be a bad thing mind, it might bring that cow down a peg or two, but I’ll not have you hurting my mistress, no, that I will not! Coming in here so you can kiss and do worse to a totally defenceless and innocent young potgirl, you…”

“Teo, it is not like that at all!” whispered Seni. “As you are my dearest friend, believe me! Hapu has had ample opportunity to do whatever he wants to me multiple times and he has acted the gentleman throughout. Apart from anything, I think he is too shy to molest a girl, that is one of the reasons why he is such an absolute darling, but there are many more. He is kind, caring, he listens to me and he knows exactly what to say!”

“By Holy Mother Isis, this is worse than I thought! You are in love, Miss Seni, you are totally besotted with him!”

“No! No! We’re not in love, we’re just friends!”

“Yes, Miss Teo, just friends!”

“Just friends my arse! I can see it in your eyes… and his. By Ra! You do not even realise it yourselves, but you are smitten, the pair of you! That is so terrible, so awful… and yet… yet so wonderful at the same time! Oh Miss Seni, this changes everything! I am so happy for you, you who deserve joy more than anyone and who has continually been afflicted by hardships! This is marvellous news, I feel like dancing with joy, I…”

“Shh! You’ll wake the others!”

Teo quietened down immediately and nodded her head. “No, we can’t have that; it would solve nothing. I came here today to expose you and get you banished from this house, but seeing the joy in my mistress’s eyes, I cannot do that now. How this will end I can’t say, probably in tears, but I shall not be the one to force the hand of fate. However, you need to promise me, Mr. Nebet, that you will not mistreat nor do ill by my mistress, for if you do, I shall hunt you down and kill you, honestly I shall, for she is my life and…”

“Miss Teo, I promise, I promise! Have no fear, I could never do ill to her, she is too precious to me.”

“Very well, and promise me one more thing too.”

“What is that?”

“That you shall not marry Miss Heni. You do not love her and she does not… can not love you, and if you two were together whilst Miss Seni spent her life in the temple alone, then it would break her heart. And I would have to kill you, did I mention that?”

“Teo, you cannot expect Hapu to…” Seni interjected, but Hapu was resolved.

“No, I promise. I shall not wed Heni, but I need to keep up the courtship as it is the only thing that allows us to be together.”

Teo nodded and then approached to kiss her mistress on the cheek. “Go girl,” she whispered, smiling, “seek happy nights for happy days!” and then, with a passing glance at Hapu, she left them all alone.

In the candlelight, Hapu gazed at Seni and Seni gazed at Hapu. “We’re not smitten are we?” he said.

“Not at all. Just friends.”

“Just friends.”

“Officially.”

“Officially.”

And then, he leaned his head in towards hers and, cradling the back of her hair with his hand, pressed his lips against her. Again, their mouths opened and their tongues explored one another intimately. This time though, she did not withdraw.

Chapter 8

And so Hapu entered a period of absolute bliss. By day he would visit one Ankhkhaf sister, pretend to court her and be interested in her, whilst at night he would creep into the room of the other and they would talk for hours with the connivance of her maid. They would talk and they would kiss but they never did any more, even though Hapu’s rod ached to do so and, the moment he got into his bed, he would bring himself to ecstasy within seconds, the image of Seni’s heavenly face hovering before him in his mind’s eye.

Some days, Heni would agree to Seni being brought down to join them and she would stand there in her pot whilst they drank tea or played a game and, whenever Heni’s back was turned, she would wink at Hapu and they would both smile at the secret that they shared.

But even though the period was like a perfect summer’s day, over it hung a cloud. At the back of both of their minds was the awareness that it was only temporary, that it could not last and that the ending would be cruel, for it would mean Hapu unable to visit the Ankhkhaf residence and, after Heni’s marriage, Seni being sentenced to this life and the afterlife in the gloomy confines of the Isis temple.

And then, one day most unexpectedly, the clouds broke and the rain gushed down in torrents.


Bleary-eyed, Hapu knocked on the door of the Ankhkhaf residence. As usual, a servant let him in and showed him to the sitting room. As usual, Heni was sitting there waiting for him, a smile on her face, wearing a revealing and expensive gown. Unlike usual, next to her sat her dad and, next to Mr. Ankhkhaf sat someone else.

“Good morning, Hapuneseb,” said Unasankh Ankhkhaf.

“Good morning, Hapu,” said his own father.

“Dad… err… Mr. Ankhkhaf… g-g-good morning.”

“Please sit, Hapuneseb,” continued Unasankh Ankhkhaf. “Now, I know that seeing us here today is not what you expected; instead you were looking forward to more time together with my daughter Hentmereb here. However, that is why we need to talk with you today.”

“Yes Hapu. You’ve been courting with Miss Ankhkhaf for more than a month now and, if you continue visiting this house without making a marriage proposal, then it will become questionable in terms of propriety and people will begin to talk. Now I know that you have always been a trifle shy around young ladies, but a month is more than enough to know if you are attracted or not and, what is more, the festival of Sokar is almost upon us, recognised since ancient times as the ideal time for a a wedding to take place. So, I must ask you to make a decision, son, and, I must say, Miss Ankhkhaf is certainly a charming and well-bred lady whom, if I were your age, I would not hesitate to propose to.”

“Lord Nebet, you are too kind!”

“Well, Hapu?”

Hapu sat there. He looked from his father to Heni, from Heni to her father and from Mr. Ankhkhaf back to his dad. This was the moment of truth; this was when it would all end, when the greatest friendship of his life would be destroyed and only an abyss of misery could be seen before him. He had promised never to marry Heni – a girl whom he would have stopped seeing after the first day under normal circumstances – and he would keep that promise, but to do so would mean that his name would be mud to the Ankhkhaf family and that Heni would marry someone else and Seni would be taken from him into the temple forever. He pictured his beloved, entombed in her pot on that dark and dusty shelf amongst all the others, chanting prayers for all eternity, that joyful smile and sparkling eyes dimming with a crushing and hellish life. No! No, he could not let that happen! Yet what could he do? One couldn’t marry a potgirl after all, could one… could one?

He turned to Unasankh Ankhkhaf. “Sir, if I am to understand you correctly, you desire me to marry your daughter?”

“Nothing would make me happier, Hapuneseb.”

“And Father, if I am to understand you correctly; you do not want me to leave this house today without proposing first to Miss Ankhkhaf.”

“That is correct, Hapu.”

“So be it. I shall do it, but under one condition. I would like the whole family gathered here as I do it.”

“That is a strange request, but I shall honour it, Hapuneseb.” Unasankh Ankhkhaf clicked his fingers and the servant waiting by the door came over. “Man! Bring my wife here and also Miss Senisonbe!”

“Yes sir.”

Around a minute later, Mrs. Ankhkhaf came into the room and, a confused look upon her face, sat down on the couch beside her daughter. Soon after that, Teo entered carrying Seni in her pot. She laid her down carefully on the small table by the couch and then stood back looking as bemused as the lady of the house. Hapu stood up and addressed the room:

“Today my father and Mr. Ankhkhaf have asked me if I am prepared to marry Miss Ankhkhaf and that, if she accepts, they will too. I am willing to marry her. Therefore, I have brought you all here so that you may witness my proposal and her response.”

Then, turning to the small table by the couch, he went down on one knee and said quietly yet firmly, “Senisonbe Ankhkhaf, do you agree to become my lawfully wedded wife?”

Seni’s eyes lit up. “I do,” she replied, tears of joy running down her face.

 

Chapter 9 & Epilogue

The Goddess Provides, Officially: Chapters 5-6

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Chapters 3-4

Chapter 5

Hapu continued to visit the Ankhkhaf house every day, causing his mother and father to start making preparations on the quiet. He would usually ask to play a game and get Heni to include her potted sister, but as the elder sibling was now starting to get a little jealous – and was expecting a little more intimate time with her lover – she would often think of reasons not to include her and Hapu knew that he had to be careful so he did not push the matter. He did, however, always manage to see her, if only fleetingly, making sure that he drank lots of tea so that, after an hour or so, he was in need of the toilet. Ducking into the shrine room after one such visit – and after being denied Seni’s presence in the sitting room for three straight days – he kissed his friend on the forehead and then whispered to her, “This is awful! I really want to see you but she keeps making excuses.”

“She’s getting suspicious, Hapu. We’ll have to stop meeting.”

“But that would be awful! You’re the dearest female friend I’ve ever had and the thought of coming here and not seeing you is too terrible to contemplate. Isn’t there another way?”

Seni closed her chocolate-coloured eyes for a moment so that it looked as if she were asleep. Then a wide smile spread across her face and she opened them again. “I’ve got it! The window in the shrine room is left open every night by Teo so a breeze flows through and I don’t overheat. If you climb over the back wall into the garden, then it is right above the banana palms. Climb the one underneath it and sneak in. No one is awake between eleven and seven, and this room is on the opposite side of the house to all the bedrooms so, as long as we are quiet, we can talk to our hearts content!”

“Really?! Then I shall come, tonight! I cannot wait!”

“Me too!”

Hapu left and returned to his fiancee with a smile spread across his face. “I suppose you want to play a game again,” she said with a sulky pout on hers.

“Not at all. I was thinking that maybe a stroll around the garden might be in order, if you’d like to, of course.”

“Like to? I’d love it! I know some nice bushes that we could sneak behind where no one can see us and I can tickle you rotten… or more…”

And so they did go for a walk around the garden although, curiously, whilst Heni did manage to lure Hapu behind the bushes briefly, he seemed to be far more interested sitting on the very public bench by the fountain that overlooks the banana palms….


That night, dressed in black like a robber, Hapu used his climbing skills to scale the two meters or so up the wall surrounding the Ankhkhaf residence and then descend down into the moonlit garden. He silently made his way along the paths, keeping to the shadows, before heading for the large banana palm beneath the open window. He climbed the tree as quietly as he could and then squeezed himself through the narrow aperture. He was in the corridor leading to the shrine room. On tiptoes he crept down and opened the door. Inside, the candles on the shrine provided a faint, warm light and the smell of incense hung in the air. On her shelf stood Seni in her pot. Her eyes were closed and her breathing deep. Well, deep for a potgirl. He crept up to her and whispered her name. Immediately, those beautiful eyes opened and that perfect smile spread across her face. “You came!” she whispered in delight.

Chapter 6

Hapu left the shrine room as the sun was beginning to peep its sacred face over the eastern horizon. He did not want to depart, then or ever, but above the hushed sounds of their two voices, Seni heard a bird sing its song. “It is the lark!” she whispered. “Morning is here; you must go now!”

“No, no, it is the nightingale,” Hapu replied, but he knew and, after a promise to do the same again the following night, he was gone before any of the household members were awake.

They talked about everything, all those questions that had been burning in Hapu’s brain ever since he had met this captivating potgirl. Why had she been potted? What was it like? How did she feel? Did she regret it? What was her future? Patiently, she answered them all and, in return, he told her the answers to all her queries about his life.

She had undergone potisation only six months previously, although had known for years that it would probably be her fate. “It is customary for families of standing like mine to pot a daughter and send her to the Temple of Isis. It guarantees good luck, standing and respect. The only question for our house was which one of us would have the honour.”

“I understand that. If I had had a sister, she may well have undergone potisation too; as it was, I am the only child. But why you? Why not Heni?”

“Do you want the official reasons or the real ones?”

“I’ll have all of them,” replied Hapu, who simply liked listening to Seni talk far more than what she talked about.

“Well, officially, it is because I am the younger sister, thus of a slightly lower status than Heni which can count during marital negotiations. On top of that though, I have always been the more pious and responsible and so I was deemed more suited to the role.”

“That’s the story I heard from her, but that’s terrible! Like you are being punished for being a better person than she!”

“Officially potisation is an honour, not a punishment. People respect me more because of it and Heni is jealous of me, not the other way round… officially.”

“Officially.”

“Indeed. But there were other factors at play here, never openly stated, but far more influential. The first was that our father had two wives; my mother and Heni’s mother. And Heni’s mum, Aunt Meryetamun, is both the first wife and, crucially, still alive. My mum died giving birth to me.”

“Oh, Seni!” cried Hapu, trying to imagine what life would be like as a child without a mum. “Our goddess Shai has dealt you a rough hand…”

“Shhh! Keep your voice down; we don’t want them waking up. Yes, I suppose I have, although never having had a mum, I’ve never missed her, although countless times I have imagined what it would be like. Aunt Meryetamun was never bad with me; indeed, we get on very well, but she naturally favours Heni and when the potisation issue came to the table, there was no one to argue my side or, officially, to push for giving the great honour to Heni. So, that was one unacknowledged reason, but there is also another: Heni has always been the pretty one and it is well-known that a pretty face can attract a good husband. So, Papa made the choice, and I got the great honour while Heni got you.”

“Well, you’re wrong on two counts there: firstly, I’m not engaged to Heni yet and, secondly, you’re far prettier than she is!”

“And you’re full of lies, Hapu! I know I’m the plain one; Heni is gorgeous; she has a beautiful face and a tempting, curvy figure. Now, I don’t even have a figure, but when I did it was nothing special, just straight up and down, whilst my face is just everyday and normal.”

“Well, I must prefer everyday and normal girls then.”

They looked at one another with the unsaid allegation that he had just transgressed an unseen red line into a dangerous place. “And, to continue what I was saying, Heni has got you. After all, why would you keep on visiting here every single day if you were not thinking of marriage? If you did not propose now, then it would be most irregular and could cause both of you great shame and loss of face.”

Silence fell upon the room and this time Hapu did not transgress the boundary. Instead, he changed the subject: “So, tell me what it was like, being potted I mean?”

“The short answer is that there is not much to tell. I had the process explained to me in detail beforehand, so I can give you a medical explanation – what is removed, how infection is avoided, how the pot is fitted and so on – but, in all honesty, I saw nothing of it first-hand. I remember the great ceremony in the Isis temple where I shall later live, the incense, the chanting, the fine robes and headdress that I had to wear which made me feel like Queen Merytaten-tasherit. And then, I remember going to the inner sanctum and drinking the sacred tea, but after that, I naturally blacked out. My sleep was dreamless – some girls have vivid visions and dreams, but I can’t recall any – and when I woke up, I was like this. The tea did not keep me drugged, of course, that was done in the hospital over the week or so that I was out cold. When I awoke I had already been taken home and so when I opened my eyes I saw the view before me now: this shrine room. Unlike some girls I had no complications,so I just had to adjust to my new state; not the easiest thing in the world, but I’d had training which helped a little.”

“Heni mentioned that. She still has to undergo it she says. Something about having her arms immobilised behind her back.”

“Yes, and she absolutely hates it! Since the age of twelve, our arms were trained to accept the monoglove, a kind of leather sleeve that keeps them immobile behind your back – very soon they deaden and you can’t even feel them. It is seen as essential for future potgirls, as it gets you used to not being able to use them, and so become dependent on others to feed you and help you with the toilet and turn the pages in a book, and so on. It was embarrassing at first, but as all girls of standing undergo it, I didn’t mind that much. It was normal. And for those girls who are not destined for a vase, then it is said to improve posture which it probably does since it makes you thrust your breasts out and keep your back arched. Preferable for marriage, I’d say. But has she mentioned the legbinders?”

Hapu just shook his head.

“Oh, those were similar leather pouches that restrained my legs. Each leg was folded back on itself and then laced tightly into its own leather pouch. Wearing them, I could do nothing with my legs save open and close them for toilet purposes. I was usually put in a stand with two holes for each pouch that could be wheeled about by Teo. Straight after my potisation was announced, I started spending more and more time in them until, by the end, I was never out of them and could hardly remember what it was like to have legs to walk around with. Heni was meant to wear them too, to help her empathise with my situation and to encourage discipline – young ladies are not meant to wander about at will, ‘they may get into trouble’ as we were told – but she soon wheedled out of it through some heavy doe-eyed pleading. Anyway, due to that training, when I did eventually wake up as a fully-fledged potgirl, whilst it was still an almighty change to get used to, I was somewhat prepared.”

“So what is it like, living in a pot?”

“Good and bad, I suppose. The biggest problem is boredom. You can’t do anything, nothing at all, for yourself. My neck is even stiffened. I mean, I can look around, but not like before… of course half of looking is turning your chest, which is now rooted in here. If I sneeze I cannot even wipe my nose. That was a massive thing during my training – being unable to scratch itches was hell early on, especially under the binders – but you get used to it; it is part of the spiritual dimension of potisation. Unable to solve the problem yourself, like a meditating monk, you work out ways of blocking it from your mind. That works well with itches, although with snot its harder. But Teo comes around regularly to wipe my face.”

“You’ve mentioned Teo several times; is she your maid?”

“Yes, and much more. Teo is my handmaiden but also my best friend in all the world. We are like sisters: far more so, I am afraid to say, then I am with Heni. It is not that Heni and I do not get on, but instead that Teo understands me far better. I could never see her as a mere servant, she is the most beautiful and wonderful person alive! Our family took her in as a young girl and we played together as children. She has made a vow dedicating her life to looking after me and she never agreed with me undergoing potisation; it really upset her. We share everything.”

“Have you told her about my visits?”

Seni looked to one side. “No, not that. Not yet. She may try to stop it. She would fear that we may get too attached as friends and that would both poison my relationship with my sister – Heni can be prone to jealousy, I’m afraid – and cause me too much hurt when I enter the temple.”

“Why? Couldn’t I still visit you there?”

“Visit, maybe, but only as a devotee I imagine; brief and in public. We could never get to know one another like this, intimately and alone.”

Again, silence descended on the room as something unspeakable had almost been said. This time it was Seni who changed the subject:

“I was telling you about what it is like; well, the helplessness, yes, but worse than that is the boredom. I mean, what is there to do all day but just stand here? And I say ‘stand’ almost in jest! I am beholden to my sister or father or aunt to order me moved or included in family activities. I have religious programmes to occupy me, and my prayers, but one can only pray so much. That is why I enjoy your company, Hapu; it is such a refreshing change!”

“So, that’s all I am? A change from religious indoctrination?”

“No, I didn’t mean that. Even if I wasn’t potted and could walk about and do things for myself, I would still love your company. You’re the first guy I’ve ever met – not that I’ve known many in this way – who can talk to a girl on her level, who is interested in her life and does not try to dictate everything. You’re really sweet and special.”

“As are you, Seni, as are you. Even though we’ve only just met, I feel like you’re my best friend.”

“I know, it’s weird isn’t it?And yet I feel exactly the same. I’ll hate it when we can no longer talk like this, although I do hope you’ll still visit me in the temple, even if it is only to offer supplications.”

“Of course I will, although you do realise that you are providing me with every incentive I need to delay marrying your sister.”

“I know.” They giggled together as the candles on the altar flickered.

“Carry on with your tale, please.”

“So, there is the boredom and the helplessness, but those I did anticipate and was trained for. What my training did not prepare me for though, was the overheating. Covered and contained as I am, I can no longer control my body temperature easily, and so I quickly become overheated in the daytime. That is why I am usually left in here as it is the coolest room in the house, open only slightly to the shaded side, but even then Teo has to come around regularly to flannel my face with a cold cloth. It is really hard, the heat, being unable to even cool myself down.”

“Are you hot now?”

“Feel for yourself.”

He put his hand on her cheek. It was slightly warm. “Seems ok.”

“Try the other cheek,” she whispered, gazing into his eyes.

Hapu put his other hand up and then moved his face forward until he was only centimetres away from hers. “What about your lips? Are they warmer or cooler than the rest of you?”

“I can’t tell, try them too.”

He leaned forward and placed his own lips on hers. No cheeks or foreheads, lips. They met and their mouths opened involuntarily. Before they knew it, their tongues were intermingling. Then she jerked her head backwards, only as far as she could manage, but enough.

“What is it?” he asked, shocked.

“You are due to marry my sister and I will enter the temple,” she replied coolly, a tear trickling down her cheek.

They sat for a while in silence as the tear dried in the balmy night.

 

Chapters 7-8